Smoky Hills
by snowdragonct
Summary: The early settlers called the town Smoky Hills. Those who came later learned how fitting the eerie name really was, how secretive people could be, and how insubstantial, or even fleeting, life there could be. After all, where there's smoke, there's fire.
1. New Tenants

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing, bigotry, some OOC

Pairings: 1X2 eventually, 3X4 also eventually

A/N: I know, "The Academy" is way behind on updates. I have not abandoned it and never will. But this story started pulling at my imagination, and then spilling out, and I went with the flow. I blame Kaeru Shisho, who aided and abetted me all the way! She provided a huge source of feedback, proofreading, editing, and helping me work through plot issues. I just couldn't do without her, ever!

SMOKY HILLS

"_Sometimes in the early morning_—_usually in autumn_—_when the sun hits the dewy valleys, the mist rises to wreathe the hills, giving the illusion of a haze of smoke hanging over them. Likewise in the winter, or early spring, while the lowlands are bathed in morning sun, the clouds often hang so low as to obscure the tops of the hills in a shroud of fog. No wonder the early settlers to these hilly inlands chose to call the town Smoky Hills. But over the decades, the name has come to reflect more than the visual aspect of the area; it describes the very nature of life in these hills…mysterious…secretive…sometimes insubstantial… even fleeting…"_

—_excerpt from the private journal of Ephraim Barton_

Chapter One: New Tenants

When they pulled into the driveway to see an overgrown yard and rundown looking house, Heero came perilously close to turning the vehicle around and taking Trowa right back to the city. Even the estate lawyer's description of a "bit of a fixer-upper" hadn't prepared them for the desolate look of the place.

"God, Trowa—."

The auburn-haired man just shook his head. "Don't. We've come all this way. The least we can do is take a look around."

"But it's—."

"I know. Just—humor me. Take me inside."

So they went inside—after fighting their way up a weed-choked walkway, cautiously testing the strength of the worn-looking porch steps, and finding them sturdier than they looked.

Inside was even worse. Cobwebs and dust covered almost every square inch of the sparsely-furnished living room, and when Heero pulled the sheet off an ancient couch, the squirrels nesting underneath scurried in several directions, vaulting off walls and chairs before sliding out through the same tiny chink in a window frame that had let them in.

"Cozy," Trowa said with a rueful smirk.

"You have got to be out of your mind! Trowa, I'm taking you back to civilization—where there are clean lodgings, and doctors within driving distance, and—no squirrels!"

Heero looked a bit pale, after the shock of disturbing the wild inhabitants.

"You can go back if you want," Trowa offered. "I'll even go with you, until I heal up and can come back on my own. But it's a six-hour drive, and I fully plan to have a decent night's sleep here before getting back in that car."

And somehow, one night led into the next—until they never did quite make that drive back to where they came from.

* * *

It was the day after a holiday; never a good thing when you worked at a post office. But when Postmaster Quatre Winner opened the letter addressed to Postmaster, Smoky Hills, that had been dropped in the local collection box, he knew it was about to get worse.

"Duo?"

"Yeah boss?" Duo looked around the corner of the case where he was sorting letters, preparing the mail for delivery on his rural route.

"How long has it been since anyone got mail at the Barton Place?"

"Shit. Years," Duo told him. "Old Man Barton passed away a good two or three years ago. No one's lived there since." His brow drew together in a suspicious frown. "Why do you ask?"

"We've got a patron card for that address."

"What?" Duo exploded, stalking around the case and snatching the offending form from Quatre's hand. He glared down at it, reading the neat handwriting and scowling deeply. "The Barton Place?" he blurted. "Quat—that's ten miles off my route!"

"Actually, it's closer to five," Quatre pointed out.

"Yeah, and we're only supposed to extend delivery _one _mile per family—a half-mile each way. This would add a ten-mile round trip."

"Yes, but Howard used to deliver there. It's grandfathered in," Quatre noted.

Duo's jaw dropped, and he put his hands on his hips. "Jeezus, Quat, you've gotta be kidding. If I have to drive all the way out there every day, it'll add half an hour to the route."

"I'll make sure your evaluation reflects that," Quatre promised. "I'll send the paperwork in today and make the change effective immediately."

"But, Quat—!"

The blonde gave a wan smile. "Sorry, Duo. You know we have to honor the delivery request."

"Why not make 'em get a post office box?"

"Nice try. But you know we can't."

Duo gave his boss a brief, resentful look, and then sighed. "S'pose you're right," he grumbled. "Doesn't mean I have to like it, though." He took the form back to his case, studying the names printed in block letters. "Trowa Barton and Heero Yuy. Weird." He took a bite of his doughnut and a quick sip of coffee from his travel mug. "I get the Barton guy—but who the heck is Heero Yuy? Sounds foreign."

"Japanese, I think," Quatre agreed, resuming his paperwork at his desk.

"Y'think the Barton kid was Dekim's son?"

"Who knows?"

Duo looked the form over again, frowning thoughtfully. The Barton family had a long history in Smoky Hills. They were one of the originals—a farm family that dated back to the early settlers. Genuine hill folk, if you wanted to adopt the local image of them.

Duo definitely agreed with that assessment. Old Man Barton, the most recent one anyway, had been a crotchety, unsociable hermit, living on his couple of hundred acres of forest and pasture land, and allowing no one to trespass.

It had been common practice for the local kids to dare each other to sneak onto the place and steal one of the "no trespassing" signs to prove they'd been there. To the best of Duo's knowledge, only one person had ever succeeded—his childhood buddy Solo.

Grimacing at the tangent his mind had slipped onto, Duo put the form aside to file later, and set to work marking the new delivery on his sorting case. His brief hope that there'd be no mail for it, and he could put it off for another day, was dashed when he came across a single letter addressed to Trowa Barton.

"Well shit," he sighed, resigning himself to an extra-long drive that day.

His only consolation was that Quatre was besieged with customers, and working just as hard as he was. But at least the postmaster would get to close the place up for a couple of hours at noon, and take a much-needed break. Duo generally worked straight through, though now and then, usually on a heavy day like this one, he'd give himself a fifteen-minute break somewhere along the route and wolf down a sandwich and soda.

With the new stop out at the distant Barton farm, he doubted he'd ever have time for such a luxury again.

The morning flew past as he hurried to sort the mail and pull it down into delivery sequence. Being the day after a holiday, there was more than an average amount, and it was almost noon before he was ready to load his vehicle.

He pulled the Jeep up to the back door of the post office, wheeled the trays of mail out in a cart used for that purpose, and stacked them neatly in the back seat.

When he'd loaded the last tray into his Jeep, he stuck his head back in the door to say a quick goodbye to his boss. "On my way, Quat!" he announced, seeing that the postmaster was still at the counter waiting on customers.

Then, recalling the additional delivery on his route, he threw in a slightly grumpy afterthought. "Don't wait up!"

"Be back before the truck," Quatre called back, darting a glance over his shoulder.

"I'll try."

In reality, Duo expected to easily make it back before the truck that came to take their mail in to the main processing plant. While the detour was going to add a good ten miles to his driving, it wasn't going to take as long as his griping had implied. But he felt he had to at least put up some token resistance to the increase in his workload.

Besides, the drive would take him up around the reservoir—a place that was filled with memories, both good and bad, of the years he'd spent growing up in the remote hill town. Seeing the familiar lake was bound to make him remember and dwell on things he tried not to, and he wasn't looking forward to it.

"Get a grip, Duo," he mumbled to himself, pulling out of the post office parking lot and heading for his first delivery.

* * *

It was mid-afternoon when Duo turned onto the road leading out towards the Barton farm, and stepped hard on the accelerator, eager to make time and not linger among melancholy memories.

But no matter how fast he drove, he couldn't escape them. He had to pass the spot where the river ran close beside the road, and where the best fishing hole in town was. And a mile further, was where he'd broken down in a beat-up old pickup truck and had to walk the eight miles back to town on a sweltering hot afternoon. There'd been a mountain lion stalking him, too, though he'd never managed to convince anyone of the truth of it. The big cat had trailed along in the shadows under the trees, keeping him always in sight, but never quite getting close enough for him to throw something at. Duo still smarted at the way he'd been scoffed at for telling folks about the big cat.

Still further along the winding road, was the place where Duo and Solo had stolen a deer crossing sign to win a bet with some other boys—and further down, the place Solo had stolen his first kiss.

Duo nearly hit the brakes at that point, tempted to turn onto the side street that ran up along the reservoir to the lookout—to go to a place he rarely visited, even in his mind. Instead, he put the brakes on his errant thoughts, and focused all of his attention on driving.

He cranked up the radio a bit as well, letting the rock and roll blasting out of scratchy speakers provide a needed distraction as he sang along.

When he finally got to the bumpy private road up to the Barton place, he breathed a quick sigh of relief. Almost there.

Not that approaching the Barton farm made him feel any better than driving past places haunted by memories; as far back as Duo could recall, the old farm had been reputed to be haunted by things a lot more substantial.

And while he knew those old stories to be childish superstition, for the most part, fueled by the miserly and anti-social nature of the last resident, he couldn't quite shake his feeling of unease.

"Fuckin' haunted houses," Duo mumbled under his breath, glancing nervously around as he drove up the narrow lane leading to the mailbox. It was a box he recalled from a time that some of the kids had dared each other to steal a piece of Old Man Barton's mail, to prove they'd gotten even _that_ close to the terrifying place. It had been a dilapidated, rickety thing, weathered and worn and on the verge of collapse—in the exact shape of the farmhouse, and supposedly just as haunted.

But when he arrived at it, he was pleasantly surprised. Instead of the old, hand-made wooden mailbox with flaking paint the color of dried blood (and some of the kids swore that's what had been used to coat it), there was a brand new metal box on a sturdy wooden post. The house number was neatly affixed to the side, in those reflective letters most hardware stores sold. It looked like a poster child for the regulations manual—the height, position and markings fitting all postal requirements to a tee.

"Wow," Duo murmured, opening the box and setting the single letter inside. "If we gave gold stars for mailbox installation, these guys'd get a big, fat one."

He found himself smirking as he tossed in a flyer and closed the box, shifting the Jeep into gear and heading back towards civilization.


	2. Speculations

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing, bigotry, some OOC

Pairings: 1X2 eventually, 3X4 also eventually

A/N: Thanks for the great response so far. I do apologize for the lack of updates for "Academy," but when I do get it moving forward again, I promise I'll make it worth the wait. Meanwhile, this story took the reins of my creative flow, and sort of wrote itself. Again, thanks for reading! I missed regular posting and the interaction here very much.

SMOKY HILLS

"_This land is rich with life—streams full of fish and hills filled with game. The soil is dark and fertile—perfect for farming. I don't harbor false illusions, though. It will not be easy. As welcoming as these hills are in the abundance of summer, they will be equally hostile, come winter. Already I've heard wolves howling and pumas screaming in the night. Our home must be sturdy enough to withstand not just wind and weather, but predator or foe." _

—_excerpt from the private journal of Ephraim Barton_

Chapter Two: Speculations

"Thor—drop that!"

The big wolfhound reluctantly gave up the mummified squirrel carcass he'd found in a corner of the downstairs bedroom, and Heero gave a disgusted huff as he scooped it up with the dustpan and poured it into the trash.

"Aw, Heero—he thinks you are a serious killjoy," Trowa teased from his wheelchair.

"He's a dog, Barton. He relinquished a 'kill' to the pack leader—me. He has no concept of 'joy' or my having 'killed' it."

"Sure he does," Trowa assured him, as the dog trotted over and nuzzled the auburn-haired man's chest. "See? He's transferring his affection to _me_."

"He's rubbing his squirrely muzzle in your shirt," came a dry response, as Heero shoved back his damp bangs and tackled the next corner full of cobwebs. "If you want to smell like dead rodent, go right ahead."

Trowa "ew-ed" and pushed the dog away. "Way t'go, Yuy. If I puke, you're cleaning it up."

"I'll have to, won't I?" Heero noted irritably. "Since you can't walk."

Trowa looked down at his thickly-bandaged leg, stretched out along a support. "Sorry."

Heero sighed, turning to face him. "I'm not trying to make you feel guilty—."

"But I do! I'm sitting here like a lump, while you do all the work—."

"Work I wouldn't have to do, if you'd let me take you back to Sanc—." Heero stopped in mid-rant, visibly curbing his temper. "I'm sorry," he said evenly. "I'm just a bit overwhelmed."

"I know. This was supposed to be a country home—not a project," sighed the other man. "Hell, the first weekend you busted your ass making the kitchen and bathroom useable, and putting up a mailbox. Since then, you've hardly stopped working. If you really hate it, we could go back to Sanc until my leg heals up and I can do my fair share—."

"No," came a quick, curt reply. "I don't want to go back." Heero's blue eyes turned a bit haunted. "Once we get this place tidied up and replenish our groceries, things will seem less—daunting."

Trowa managed a weak smile. "Daunting. That's a good way to put it. I'd have said 'impossible.'"

"It's not impossible." Heero knocked the cobwebs on his broom into the garbage can. "Just messy." He glanced up with a more determined light in his eyes. "The floors are solid. The roof doesn't leak. And the foundation is sound. Despite the neglect, this house is genuinely habitable."

He turned as Thor and the second wolfhound, Balder dashed across the room chasing a mouse they'd scared up from under a pile of dead leaves.

"Well, it _will _be," he added ruefully. "With a bit more work."

* * *

The end of his first week of extended deliveries found Duo at the local pub with Quatre, after they'd finished work, sipping on a beer and nibbling pretzels from a bowl, while they debated what to do over the weekend.

"—too early for fishing," Duo was pointing out. "Season doesn't open for a couple of weeks."

"But we could scope out the best-looking spots…maybe pack a lunch and make a day of it."

Duo gave a shrug. "I s'pose."

"You could look for mountain lion tracks," Quatre added, not quite looking at Duo when he said it.

It was a sore point between them; or actually between Duo and pretty much _everyone _in town. No one had believed him about the lion. And although it had happened long before he met Quatre, when he told the blonde the story, even that staunch ally had been skeptical.

"Figments of the imagination don't leave tracks," Duo said sourly.

"Hasn't stopped you from looking before."

"True."

Ever since the embarrassing incident, Duo had made annual treks into the woods to look for evidence to back up his claim. He'd become a pretty avid hiker because of that desire for vindication. And if he took up cross-country skiing just to search the freshly-powdered trails for tracks—well that was his own business and no one else's.

"You know I don't think you lied about the mountain lion," Quatre reminded him, gesturing the bartender for a refill. "I just think maybe you saw a really big bobcat, or maybe a coyote—."

"Drop it," Duo said flatly, downing the rest of his beer and shoving the empty over next to Quatre's. "If you wanna go hiking this weekend, we'll go. Just don't bring up the subject of tracks, or anything else having to do with—_that_."

_Subject closed._

"Okay." Quatre picked up his fresh glass of beer, and glanced up at the wide-screen television, noticing the commercial that was playing. One of the actors in it looked Japanese, which inspired a quick, conversation-saving change of subject. "Hey, have you caught a glimpse of anyone up at the Barton place yet?"

"Nope. Driveway's about a mile long," Duo pointed out. "And _winding_. You sure as hell can't see the house from the mailbox. They'd have to be out there waiting in order for me to meet 'em." He gave a teasing waggle of his eyebrows. "Maybe they're hermits like the old man was. Recluses. Hiding out because of some horrible disfigurement."

Quatre rolled his eyes. "Y'know, Duo, it's that wild imagination of yours that makes people skeptical of some of the stories you tell."

"Yeah, but I never lie," Duo reminded him. "So no matter how far-fetched it might sound, whatever I tell you is true!"

"Well, it's what _you _believe is true." Quatre looked around them. "Too bad Mister Hendersen isn't here," he sighed, referring to the local grocer. "Everyone gets to his place sooner or later. I'll bet _he's _met the new residents."

"Why so curious?" Duo wondered, nibbling just enough off of each pretzel in his handful so that he could play "barrel of monkeys" with them on the countertop.

"God, you are so juvenile," Quatre grumbled, stealing a pretzel and biting it in half. "I just wonder what kind of people would move into such a remote location."

"Like I said, hermits. Or axe murderers." Duo used one of his pretzels to hook another out of the bowl in front of them.

Quatre muttered something under his breath.

Duo looked up with wide eyes. "What? It's not like there isn't a precedent. Everyone knows Old Man Barton was a psycho. An' his father was even worse—running moonshine and chasing off the revenuers. The place just attracts nut cases."

"Then why don't _you_ live there?" Quatre shot back, smirking just enough that Duo knew he was being baited.

"Har har. Very funny. I don't live _there_ 'cause living with _you _is so much fun."

Someone slid into the seat beside Duo and reached across to snag some pretzels from the bowl. "Talkin' 'bout the guys who moved into the Barton place? I've seen 'em," she said with a smug grin.

"Hilde!" Duo wrapped an arm around the slim brunette, nearly hauling her off her stool and into his lap. "It's been ages! How ya been?"

"Shove off," she said good-naturedly, pushing his arm away. "You saw me yesterday when you filled up the Jeep, moron."

"Yes, but that was only across the counter, gorgeous. There were _miles _between us." He batted his eyes teasingly.

"How many has he had?" Hilde asked Quatre matter-of-factly.

"Just started his second," came the response. "He's sober as a judge."

"No, I'm not. I'm intoxicated by her beauty," Duo insisted, waving a pretzel in Hilde's direction.

She bit it off in mid-air. "Stop slingin' the bullshit, Maxwell, or I won't tell you about the new hotties in town."

He stopped the banter, exchanging a quick look with Quatre, who gave the girl a hopeful look. "Do tell!"

"Well, the one who came into the store looked kinda foreign. He had dark hair and really deep blue eyes." Her expression turned a bit dreamy. "Didn't say much, 'cause he was just fillin' up the car. But he had a really deep, sexy voice. And great eyes!"

Duo rolled _his _eyes at her. "So—how 'bout the other one?"

"He stayed in the car. But he looked tall and slim from what I could see—typical of the Bartons. And he had reddish-brown hair that kinda hung over his eyes—which looked green, even from where I was standing—."

"—with your nose pressed against the window, no doubt," Duo added. "I hope you washed the drool off afterwards."

She punched him in the arm, blushing at the same time. "Asshole."

"I'll bet it was Yuy who went inside," Quatre guessed. "The name sounds Japanese, and the description fits."

"Yeah, and how many Japs have blue eyes?" Duo said sarcastically.

"As many as have green," Quatre retorted. "Besides, there are lots of Japanese-Americans around. Maybe he's half. And as Hilde pointed out, the other guy looked like a Barton—." His aquamarine gaze turned her way. "Green eyes, you said—?"

Hilde smiled as the bartender plunked a beer down in front of her, knowing the three friends' routine quite well. "You boys may as well stop right now," she suggested, giving them a coy look. "You know the odds are against you."

Both men knew what odds she meant; the odds of either Yuy or Barton being gay.

"Well, we can dream, can't we?" Quatre said with a shrug.

"That's all it'll be," Hilde cautioned. "I got dibs."

"Oh please," Duo drawled snidely. "As if—!"

"What? You don't think I could snag one of 'em?"

"Not if you roped and tied 'em," Duo countered.

"Wanna make a little wager?" she suggested. "Betcha a week's free coffee and doughnuts that I can get a date with one of them inside of a month."

"I wouldn't make that bet if I were you," Quatre cautioned. "You know how much Duo loves his coffee and doughnuts. He might cheat."

"How?"

Duo snorted wryly. "I'm their mailman, Hilde. All I'd have to do is drop them a note about the psycho bitch at the gas station and it'd be all over for you."

She narrowed her eyes. "You wouldn't dare!"

"Try me," he smirked back.

"He would," Quatre asserted.

"Isn't there some rule about that?" Hilde demanded. "He can't just put a personal note in someone's mailbox—!"

"He can if he pays the postage," shrugged Quatre. He shook his head. "Why don't you two just drop it? If you can get a date with one of the new guys, Hil, more power to you!"

Duo looked away, his expression shifting just slightly.

Hilde caught the look and frowned, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, Duo—you never know. Maybe one of them _does _swing your way."

He just shook his head. "Not in this backwater mudhole of a town," he said flatly. "Face it, Hil—there hasn't been anyone since Solo—an' there's not likely to be." He pushed away from the bar, putting a few dollars on it to cover his drinks and a tip, and tossing his Jeep keys beside them. "Hey, Quat—I'm gonna head home. You take the Jeep an' I'll walk off the beer, okay? We'll figure out what to do for fun tomorrow."

He turned quickly away and walked out before either of the other two could try to change his mind.

He knew it wasn't Hilde's fault. She hadn't meant to remind him how bleak his prospects were. And most of the time joking around about the lack of eligible guys in town was amusing for both of them.

But this time, it got under his skin just a little more than he wanted it to. It didn't help that the week before had marked the anniversary of the orphanage fire—the only real home he'd ever known. He was feeling a little raw around the edges, as well as tired from the extra driving that week.

"Freakin' Barton place—," he mumbled to himself, feeling the chilly night air quickly take away the comfortable buzz he'd been starting to develop after his two beers.

He suddenly wanted nothing more than to go home and get properly wasted where he could safely pass out afterwards. And since there was usually a six-pack in the refrigerator, he figured he could do just that.

Setting a brisk pace, with that goal in mind, he didn't mind the sobering effect of the walk—especially when he heard the rumble of an approaching vehicle, whose poorly-tuned engine he recognized all too well.

"Shit!" he hissed, stuffing his hands in his pockets and walking a little faster, hoping they were headed away from him and wouldn't notice a single, dark-clad figure on the sidewalk.

_No such luck._

The truck turned and pulled up alongside Duo, idling along to match his determined walk.

"Hey, Maxwell!" called a familiar, much-despised voice.

He kept walking, not even sparing a glance at the beat-up truck or its occupants.

"Maxwell!" The driver pulled slightly ahead so Duo couldn't avoid seeing Trant Clark hanging out of the passenger window leering at him. "Aw, c'mon honey. It's not safe for a girl like you to be walking alone at night. Want some company?"

"Fuck off, Trant," Duo muttered coldly, keeping his pace steady. He had no intention of stopping to acknowledge his tormentors; but neither would he run from them. He kept his steps measured and firm.

"That's no way to talk, sweet-cheeks. You oughta be nice to me." Trant was leaning further out the window, an open beer in his hand, and a sneer on his lips. "Shouldn't be so picky, Maxwell. Beggars can't be choosers, y'know."

Duo heard Otto's voice chime in from behind the wheel. "He's right, you fag. May as well admit nobody's ever gonna want what you're peddling. Solo didn't, now did he?"

That was the last straw for Duo. Bad enough he was depressed about the orphanage—but having them throw Solo in was too much.

"I swear t' God, Trant. Get your butt-ugly mug outta my face, or I'll pound it into paste!" Duo swore, taking a step towards the vehicle.

In the next instant, Trant was throwing open the door, while Otto slammed on the brakes and shifted into park.

"Gonna kick your ass, Maxwell!"

"You ain't got what it takes!"

Just as Otto hopped out and headed around the back of the truck, all three men heard a car approaching, and froze where they were.

The shape of the lights atop the cruiser were unmistakable, and before Duo even finished swearing under his breath, Trant and Otto were back in their vehicle, pulling away from the curb.

The police car cruised slowly along the road, neither pursuing the truck, nor stopping by Duo. But the driver, Ralph, shook his head as he passed the braided man.

He knew. They _all_ knew how it was between Trant, Otto, and Duo. But it was for damned sure the cops didn't care, seeing as half of them were Trant's distant cousins or former friends of his father, and the rest knew their boss played golf with Otto's dad, who owned the biggest business in town. It didn't mean they wouldn't break up a fight, if one occurred, which it had plenty of times in the past. But Duo was the only one without parents or standing in the town to shield him from his antagonists.

"Fuck," he muttered dispiritedly. "Fuck this town anyway."


	3. Chore Day

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing, bigotry, some OOC

Pairings: 1X2 eventually, 3X4 also eventually

A/N: Kaeru Shisho was the one who came up with the Vermin Hills line, and graciously donated it to the story. She's got the BEST sense of humor!

SMOKY HILLS

"_I've been invited to take a seat on the Town Council here in Smoky Hills, but I'm not sure I should. I'm a farmer, for Heaven's sake—not a politician. My good friend Ebenezer Woolam insists that I'm the kind of level-headed thinker they need. But I wonder. I've always thought myself to be too much of a free spirit to fit in among bankers and lawmakers. On the other hand, if I refuse, I could alienate fellow townsfolk—neighbors—those I depend on in this wild new land." _

—_excerpt from the private journal of Ephraim Barton_

Chapter Three: Chore Day

The pile of junk furniture and rusted farm implements out back of the Barton barn was growing, even as the house slowly emptied, and became livable.

Having started with the necessary rooms—kitchen, bath and bedroom—the two men had moved on to the rest of the house, dragging out mouse-infested furniture room by room, and cleaning the screened porch so they had a place to rest in the evenings.

Once they'd made some space, they planned to make a couple of trips back and forth from Sanc with a small rental truck to move their belongings. Not that either man had much; Heero's apartment was rather Spartan in décor, and Trowa lived mostly out of a circus trailer. But they figured a few forays to thrift shops and tag sales would enable them to furnish a couple of rooms quite comfortably.

While Trowa wished some of the work could wait until he was back on his feet, he was practical enough to realize they didn't have that kind of time. They at least needed to make the house habitable.

Frustrated by his inability to do more than supervise, Trowa took to making lists of things in need of repair. Some he could take care of while sitting in the wheelchair, if Heero set him up with the tools ahead of time. But he felt a bit useless anyway, and chewed restlessly on the tip of a pen as he refined the list yet again, trying to decide which of the heavy work could be put off until he was able to help.

"Stop," Heero said quietly, pausing to level a stern look on his companion over their morning coffee.

"Stop what?"

"Feeling guilty. You practically eat, sleep and breathe with that pad and pen in hand. For Christ's sake, you just had knee surgery. Don't sweat the fact that you can't do manual labor. We knew before we came here that you'd be stuck in that chair the first couple of weeks."

"Yes, and it took you a whole day's work to make the downstairs 'wheelchair friendly,'" Trowa pointed out. "You shouldn't have had to do it all alone."

"I didn't mind. And I still don't," Heero assured him. "Despite my occasional grouchiness."

"I just wish—."

"I know, Trowa. You wish you could help. And you'd be hip deep in squirrel shit right along with me, if you could."

The smirking comment got the laugh he was going for, and Trowa's tension eased up a bit. "Well, it might've been more appropriate if they'd named the damned town Vermin Hills, instead of Smoky," he piped up. "Considering the rodent population in this house alone!"

"I agree."

* * *

Duo woke with a groan as his bedroom door slammed open and Quatre's too-cheerful voice greeted him. "Morning, Sunshine! Up and at 'em!"

The braided man burrowed deeper under his blankets and pulled his pillow over his head, feeling the edge of the bed dip as Quatre's weight settled on it. "G'way," he mumbled into his covers.

"No can do!" Quatre said brightly, poking him through the thick comforter. "It's Chore Day. And I've got a list a mile long."

"F'ck." Duo squirmed, trying to evade the hand that sought out his shoulder and gave it a firm shake.

"C'mon, Duo. Wakey, wakey!"

"Hate you."

There was a pause and a sigh. "How much did you have to drink last night?"

"'Nough."

"Enough for what, exactly?"

Duo knew that tone. It was Quatre's faintly scolding, deeply disappointed, parentally concerned tone.

"Enough to relax me," he muttered sullenly, rolling onto his back and peering up through slitted eyes. "I had a long week, an' you know it. Had to drive all up 'round that damned reservoir every day. Didn't help that last week was the anniversary of the fire, too."

"Oh, that's right," Quatre gasped. "I forgot."

The guilt in his voice made Duo snort wryly, despite the slight ache in his head. "Why should you remember it, Quat? You weren't even in town back when that happened."

"Yes, but I know you go to the cemetery every year."

And he had—every year since the Maxwell Orphanage burned to the ground, along with Father Maxwell, Sister Helen, and all the children still living there at the time.

Quatre gave him a faintly accusing look. "Why didn't you mention it?"

"I dunno." Duo rubbed his eyes and yawned. "I stopped that night after work. Didn't seem like anything you'd be interested in doing with me, so I got it over with and went home."

Yeah, he'd stood and downed a beer that night, too, and then filled the empty bottle with water from the spigot in the graveyard, and stuck a few early wildflowers into it. He'd set it on the old priest's headstone, and recited a prayer to a God he didn't believe in any more, and then he'd walked away without a backward glance—like he did year after year.

Quatre shook his head. "You know I'd have been happy to go along—for moral support, at the very least."

"I know," Duo said with a wan smile. "An' I appreciate it, buddy. But—it's not really your responsibility to babysit me when I'm bummed out. I'm sure I'd have been lousy company."

"All the more reason to take a friend," came the firm reply. Then the aquamarine eyes fixed a searching gaze on him. "_Sooo_—how much did you drink last night, really?"

"Two beers at the pub—three when I got home," Duo admitted. "Or maybe four."

Quatre eyed him critically. "So, you shouldn't be all _that _hung over," he noted, "which means you're just tired and cranky." He tugged at the blanket. "Get up and get your ass in the shower, and I'll have breakfast ready by the time you're human again!"

"Quat—!" Duo whined, pulling back, only to have the edge of the quilt slip from his fingers, allowing Quatre to pull it all the way off the bed.

The blonde danced back out of reach, as Duo groped for his warm covers, cursing a blue streak.

"Nope. Can't have 'em. We've got _work _to do today, Duo Maxwell! We have to clean the refrigerator, grocery shop, fix the loose hinge on the gate, and caulk the cellar window where it developed a leak over the winter." He shoved the blanket behind himself, and put both hands on his hips. "Then there's laundry and meal planning."

"Has anyone ever told you what a great fuckin' drill sergeant you'd make?"

Quatre just laughed at him. "No, I wouldn't," he argued. "I'm gay, Duo. They wouldn't want me. Besides, I can't stand khaki."

Duo finally chuckled weakly, pushing up into a sitting position, his braid a rumpled mess and his flannel pajama bottoms riding halfway down his hips. "Good thing I wore my pink bunny jammies."

Quatre's glance dropped to the aforementioned "jammies," realizing they were the ones he'd given Duo as a gag gift the Christmas before. He couldn't help laughing aloud at the disheveled, hung over, bunny-wearing mailman.

He managed to pull himself together and head for the door, calling over his shoulder to Duo. "Hurry up and shower. I'll see if I can make the pancakes look like widdle wabbits for you."

The pillow that Duo flung after him missed and rebounded from the door frame. "Asshole!" he called snidely.

"Wascally wabbit!" Quatre shot back.

"Enough already with the rabbit stuff!"

"Breakfast, Duo! Then chores!"

"Yes, mommy!"

Duo rolled reluctantly out of bed, heading for the aforementioned shower, and hoping he'd shake off both his headache and his melancholy mood under the soothing spray.

Meanwhile, Quatre set to work on the breakfast he'd promised, mentally kicking himself for forgetting to mark the anniversary of the orphanage fire on his desk calendar. He knew how important the date was to Duo, and he'd let it slip past.

Even as he poured batter into a sloppy facsimile of rabbit ears, attached to an even sloppier body, he promised himself he'd keep better track in the future.

When his roommate/employee came bounding into the kitchen fifteen minutes later, he seemed to be his usual, chipper self. He sauntered over to the coffee maker and poured himself a cup, then slung an arm across Quatre's shoulders and looked down at the pan.

"Shit! You really made bunnies!" He gave Quatre a glare that was a mixture of annoyance and amusement. "Think you're carrying this a bit far?"

"Hey, you're the one who wore the gag gift I bought you for Christmas," Quatre pointed out. "Those were never supposed to see the light of day."

Duo smirked back at him. "I know."

"Go pour us some orange juice, would you?" Quatre asked, elbowing him away.

"I got coffee—."

"Yes, and you need something nutritious to balance it. Juice, Duo. Now!"

Muttering under his breath, Duo set his coffee mug on the table, grabbed the orange juice out of the refrigerator and poured two glasses. As he slid the container back in, he gave the interior a quick scan. "Ew. You were right, Quat. Cleaning the fridge is definitely on the list today."

He brought their juice over to the table, as Quatre carried the plate of pancakes. "Make ya a deal," he offered hopefully. "If you clean that mildewy mess, I'll do the gate hinge _and _the caulking."

"You wish!"

"Aw, c'mon. You know I get queasy at the sight of vegetable rot."

"Then you shouldn't have shoved the zucchini into the back of the cooling drawer and buried it under the lettuce." He glared at his roommate. "It's practically liquefied."

"I hate zucchini," Duo reminded him.

"It's good for you."

"Yeah, but the guy in the produce section always looks at me funny when you make me buy it."

Quatre snickered at the teasingly suggestive tone. "Well maybe if you didn't fondle it so much—."

"I do _not_!"

Quatre laughed even harder at the outraged expression on Duo's face. "Seriously—the guy in the produce section is old enough to be your grandfather. I'm quite sure he doesn't have the same kinky thoughts about zucchini that you do."

"I don't!"

"Right. As I recall, you were the one who pointed out the—dimensions—last time we grocery shopped."

"Hey—I was merely observing that they come in 'small, medium, large, and holy shit.' I didn't mean anything sexual by that."

"It was the way you said it," Quatre told him, pushing the plate of pancakes closer to Duo's and gesturing him to help himself. "Eat before they get cold."

Duo forked a couple of pancakes onto his plate, and reached for the butter. "So—do we have a deal? I do the gate and the caulking?"

"Throw in the laundry, and it's a deal."

"But, Quat—!"

"Seriously. It'll take me a good two hours to scrub out that disgusting mess. You can fix the hinge in about five minutes, do the caulking in fifteen, and then throw a load of laundry in, before I'm even done emptying out the darned thing."

"Not if you figure in my trip to the hardware store for the new hinge."

"It's a ten-minute walk, which still only makes your chores about an hour, compared to two for me."

"I'll sit at the table and write the grocery list while you finish, and then we can shop together," Duo suggested hopefully.

Quatre hummed as if considering the offer, hiding a smirk at how easily he'd conned Duo into the lion's share of the chores. The guy really _did _have issues with vegetable rot.

"Okay," Quatre finally relented, secretly relieved to not have to do the chores involving tools, which were his own weak spot. "But you have to let me dictate part of the list—I'm not living on Snickers bars and soda."

"I don't!" Duo insisted vehemently. Then he threw in a teasing grin. "Sometimes I eat coffee and doughnuts, too."

"I rest my case."

The morning passed quickly, once the two men set to work on their respective chores, and it was barely noon when they'd finished and were prepared to set off for the grocery store, armed with their list, and their reusable grocery bags.

"Buy ya lunch at Sal's place," Duo offered, after a quick shuffle through his wallet to make sure he had enough cash.

Sally's Diner was a more common hangout than the pub, and most weekends they found their way there for at least one meal, and more often, two.

"Sounds good. And then we can pick up a nice steak or burgers to cook on the grill tonight," Quatre offered. "That'll be _my _treat."

The small house they shared the rent on was located just at the edge of town, within walking distance of their favorite places, but away from the noise and bustle around the town green. They decided to forego driving and walk instead, as it was a lovely day, and they had a fairly small list of groceries to carry back.

"Hey, when we get to the grocery store, you could ask Mister H about those new guys," Quatre suggested as they strolled along the sidewalk.

Duo just snorted. "I doubt he'd have chatted them up more than Hilde did," he pointed out. "She could pry national secrets out of a spy, I swear."

"She _does _seem to have a knack for getting people to open up."

Hilde had, in fact, been the first, and presumably _only _person to find out Quatre was gay, when he first moved to town. She'd asked him out so persistently, he'd finally politely told her that if she were male, he'd have been only too happy to go on a date.

Of course, she'd then tried to fix him up with Duo, but their employer/employee status precluded any such relationship.

Even if it hadn't, Quatre had picked up very quickly on the fact that Duo had never really gotten over his first boyfriend, Solo. And while he talked a good game, when push came to shove, he didn't seem to be looking very hard for a romantic relationship. The steady friendship he and Quatre had developed seemed far more important to him.

"Whatcha thinking?" Duo asked, noticing his companion's thoughts had drifted away.

"Just—remembering," Quatre shrugged.

Duo gave a knowing smirk. "Ah, you mean your serendipitous arrival to this godforsaken burg?"

"It's a nice town," Quatre insisted.

"It's a hole," Duo contradicted him darkly. "It's a backwards hick town, full of bigots and bullies. And you are the one ray of sunshine to ever arrive."

Quatre was torn between blushing at the warm praise, and trying to remind Duo that not everyone in the town was as small-minded as he made them sound. "What about Sally?"

Duo shrugged, looking away. "She's okay."

"And Mrs. Heinz?"

Duo rolled his eyes. "Yeah, her too, I suppose."

"You suppose? You told me she's your favorite customer because she always gives you cookies."

"Yeah, but she keeps trying to fix me up with her granddaughter," Duo muttered.

Quatre chuckled. "I thought she'd been in town forever. Doesn't she know you're gay?"

"She's senile. She forgets." A hint of a smile touched Duo's lips. "But her sugar cookies are the _best_."

Quatre grinned and shook his head. "Anyhow, the point is that there are plenty of decent people in town, senile or otherwise. You've got to stop focusing on the negatives."

"Hard not to, when there's so fuckin' many."

"Well, maybe the new guys will tip the balance."

"Or turn out to be serial killers," came the stubborn response, although Duo was smirking faintly. "Fit right in."

Quatre gave a solid punch to the side of Duo's shoulder as they walked. "You're impossible. Let's just forget about serial killers and bigots and enjoy our weekend, shall we?"

"Why the hell not?"


	4. Chore Week

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, some OOC

Pairings: 1X2 eventually, 3X4 also eventually

SMOKY HILLS

"_While Eliza and I have worked non-stop to prepare for the coming winter, I worry that it will not be enough. The woodpile is substantial, the smokehouse packed, and the root cellar full—but this being our first year, we don't know what the winter will bring. It weighs upon me sometimes. I overhear stories at the tavern about those who failed to meet the challenges of this new world, and I pray we don't become yet another tale told over a mug of ale, with rueful sighs and philosophical head shakes." _

—_excerpt from the private journal of Ephraim Barton_

Chapter Four: Chore Week

Another week had passed at the Barton farm, and two truckloads of furniture had done wonders towards transforming the house into something resembling a home. But Trowa keenly felt the guilt of knowing Heero had done virtually all of the heavy or strenuous work single-handedly.

Granted, there'd been that one day that Catherine came to visit, and brought a couple of burly friends to help with some of the bulkiest items. They'd hauled things up and down stairs the better part of the day. But by and large, Heero had been, and still was, the muscle behind the operation.

His fatigue was beginning to show in small, barely-discernible ways, like his impatience with his beloved wolfhounds, as they developed a tendency to wander off exploring the forest. Normally he took their willfulness in stride, but after he'd wasted a whole morning chasing down Thor, Trowa had caught him eyeing chain link fencing in a catalog, and muttering about showing "those damned hounds a thing or two."

He might have thought his friend was joking, except that when the time came for their afternoon walk, he'd taken the big dogs out on leashes, instead of loose.

So when he got back, Trowa insisted he take the rest of the night off. Even in a wheelchair, Trowa could get around well enough to throw together soup and sandwiches, and he'd done so while Heero enjoyed a leisurely shower, and donned comfortable sweatpants and a tee shirt.

When they settled at the table on the back porch to enjoy the meal, Trowa even put aside his much-abused, list-filled notepad, hoping instead to take the opportunity to talk.

"So what's up?" Heero asked without preamble, after taking a single bite of his sandwich.

"Huh?"

Cool blue eyes fixed a stern gaze on the auburn-haired man. "Don't 'huh' me, Trowa Barton. You're up to something."

"I'm not!"

"Are too," came a smirking reply, as if daring him to respond with "am not."

Instead, he just grinned and shrugged. "Can't a guy make a meal for his best pal, without getting the third degree?"

Heero just snorted. "Not if he's in a wheelchair, and I'm that pal. So, speak up!"

Trowa shook his head in resignation. He'd been hesitant to bring up a subject Catherine had mentioned—one that would make even more work for both Heero and himself. But her casual conversation had given him ideas; ideas about the property, and the surroundings. And he'd found himself looking at the place with a new perspective.

Catherine had, among other things, pointed out the beauty in the old farmhouse, noticing such things as the handmade chimneys, built by early settlers with rocks they'd probably dug right out of the soil on the farm. And when he'd examined them during his hours stuck in the wheelchair with his notebook and lists, he'd found them fascinating.

There were no less than three chimneys in the house, obviously used to heat the place back in colonial times. While two were made of stone, the third appeared to be a later addition, along with a wing of the house, and was made of bricks.

Looking back at the list he'd put aside, Trowa could see it was woefully incomplete for what he had in mind. He scratched the side of his nose thoughtfully. "I think maybe we should get a professional in to inspect the chimneys before we even think about making a fire in any of them."

"A fire?" Heero paused, his cup just an inch from his mouth.

"Well, yes," Trowa replied. "I don't know how well the oil-fired heating system works, so come winter—."

"Winter?" Heero's gaze intensified, and Trowa fell silent, blushing. "Talk to me, Barton," Heero said finally. "When we left Sanc, the plan was to come here, check the place out, and get it ready to go on the market."

"I know."

"But you're talking about being here 'come winter,' which is a good eight months away."

"I know."

Heero studied Trowa's face for several minutes. "What's on your mind?"

"Well—the housing market isn't so great, and it could take a long time to sell a place way out here," Trowa pointed out. "So, I kinda got to thinking…"

"And—?"

"Cathy told me Leon's almost out of options. They really need a place for him. If we brought him here—."

"You don't have the necessary permits."

"But I could get them. You know I could—once my leg heals up. And meanwhile, this is such a remote location—no one would ever know."

Heero gave him a wary look. "For how long, Trowa?"

The auburn-haired man shrugged. "As long as necessary." He looked up through his fringe of hair, green eyes pleading. "I know you didn't sign on for that much work, Heero. So if you don't want to—."

"Shut up," Heero ordered curtly, shaking his head and giving a faint smile. "You know I'll stick around—at least until whatever master plan you've got is complete. And there's no way I'd let you handle Leon on your own."

"He's not so bad—just old and cranky."

"Like me," Heero said, grinning.

"You're not old," Trowa teased right back.

"Okay—so—if the plan has changed, so should that list," Heero suggested, reaching to tap the pad in front of Trowa. "Some barn repairs will need to be added, as well as the paperwork for permits. We'll need to know the local zoning regs, too." He shook his head. "Your simple to-do list needs a serious overhaul, Barton."

"Already on it."

* * *

After several days of the ramped-up regimen, Heero felt like he needed a bit of an overhaul himself. He was exhausted. For the first time he could recall in recent years, he wanted nothing more than to collapse into his bed and sleep for a week—and he doubted he'd even need his sleeping pills to accomplish it. But he still had a million things to do.

Catherine and her crew had dropped Leon off early, and the temporary housing in the barn still needed a bit of reinforcement. Then there was the matter of a turnout pen, and hooking up power for the refrigeration unit for his food.

"Trowa, where'd I leave the hammer and nails?"

"Um—front porch, left side, by the board you nailed down this morning."

"Hn." Heero strode off quickly, leaving the wheelchair-bound man sighing in frustration.

"Fuck, I need out of this thing," Trowa grumbled, smacking the side of the chair with his hand. He waited until the front door slammed shut, and then carefully eased the footrests aside and let his bandaged leg gently flex.

The doctors had said that after a couple of weeks of stability, the leg could be bent and he could start some basic stretching exercises. He had a printed set of instructions for a gradual increase of activities and duration, though with Heero so busy on the house, he hadn't wanted to ask for help with his physical therapy just yet. He wanted to wait until it felt less like imposing.

But his frustration level at being useless around the house was too high to be ignored. So, with or without Heero's help, he decided he was going to transition from the chair to his crutches.

He jumped guiltily when he heard the door bang open again, and quick footsteps across the living room. But Heero bypassed the kitchen on whatever errand he was currently engaged in.

Trowa sighed, rubbing his thickly-wrapped knee, which already felt the strain of being held in a bent position. Granted, he'd been able to unwrap it and shower, using a waterproof chair—but he hadn't tried bending it to ninety degrees. Clearly, it was going to take some getting used to.

"Patience, Barton," he whispered to himself. "They said you'd get full use back, if you followed their instructions to the letter. Don't blow it now."

He flexed the leg a couple of more times, and then put the footrest back in position and laid it into its usual position.

"Trowa—where's Zero?"

"On the screened porch, last I saw," he replied, half-turning in his seat to find Heero standing at the door between the porch and the kitchen.

"Shit. I was afraid you were going to say that." Heero turned away, and Trowa wheeled himself over to the doorway.

"What do you mean?"

Heero pointed to a corner of the screen, which was peeled back away from the wall. "Apparently he got bored."

Trowa glanced to the opposite corner, where a tall metal cage held his pet myna bird. "Well, Wing—where'd he go?"

The myna bird cocked its head, whistled teasingly, and went back to nibbling at its food, obviously not interested in where the other pet had gone.

"He can't have gone far," Trowa said hopefully, looking past Heero and out at the slanting afternoon sunlight. "Why don't you go call him? We should get him back inside before a hawk picks him off or something."

"I was about to leave for town," Heero said with a scowl, running a grubby hand back through sweat-sticky hair. "The mail's usually here by now, and I should have just enough time to get my check down to the bank before they close."

"Oh." Trowa let his gaze travel back to the torn screen, feeling guilty that he hadn't noticed the mischievous Zero making his escape. "Why don't you help me get outside, and I can call, while you take care of errands?"

Heero shook his head. "I'm not leaving you outside in a wheelchair by yourself," he said firmly.

"It's perfectly safe—."

"No, it's not. Have you not heard the coyotes yapping in the hills around here? And for all you know, there could be mountain lions or bears. The man at the grocery store said they have black bear sightings all the time."

"Black bears aren't carnivores, Yuy. Or predators. You know that. And I'd have Thor and Balder to protect me anyway."

Heero didn't budge. "You stay inside," he said stubbornly. "I'll take a jog down to the mailbox with Thor, and see if I can round up Zero along the way. When I get back, I should have my check and my bird, and I can get to the bank before it closes—and then the grocery store. We're out of almost everything."

"I've got some money left—."

The blue eyes hardened. "You need every penny you have, Trowa, to do what you're thinking of doing with this place. Besides, it's my turn to buy the food. If the mail wasn't so goddamned late in the afternoon—." He threw up his hands in resignation. "We must be near the tail-end of the route, or something."

"Well, this _is _the boondocks," Trowa agreed. "Hey, when you get back d'you think—?"

He stopped when he saw the murderous gleam in the blue eyes. "Never mind."

"What?"

"It can wait."

"Barton—_what_?"

"I was hoping to get up into the attic—just a quick peek—but honestly, Heero, there's no rush."

"When you can climb the stairs to that hellhole of an attic on your own, and fight off the hoards of vermin infesting it, we'll start exploring there," Heero said firmly.

Trowa held up a faded leather notebook Heero had brought down from his first foray up into the _"lair of squirrels, raccoons and dust rhinos,"_ aka, the junk-cluttered attic. "It's just—this looks like a journal. One of my grandparents—or great-grandparents maybe. I—hoped there might be more."

"We'll find out," Heero said wearily. "But not today." He stepped past Trowa into the kitchen, grabbing a somewhat clean dishtowel and wiping his face with it. "I'm going after the mail, and Zero. Keep Balder in for now, and I'll take Thor along for a bit of his exercise."

"Yeah, sure. Hurry back."

Heero grabbed a leash, and the wolfhound, and set out at a brisk jog, forcing himself to ignore the heat and the bone-deep fatigue in his legs. But it was harder to ignore the cloud of black flies that seemed unnaturally drawn to his sweaty skin, and insisted on crowding into his face and eyes.

"Dammit!" he snapped, slapping irritably at one who scored a bite on his neck.

When he'd trekked the quarter-mile down the dirt drive, it was only to find his outgoing mail still in the box, the flag still up, and no sign of the beat-up Jeep that usually delivered to it.

"Fuck!" He took out his letters and double-checked, hoping to find the incoming mail behind them. But of course, it wasn't, so he shoved the letters back inside and slammed the door.

Of all the days for the mail to be late—it had to be when he was waiting for his paycheck so he could cash it and buy groceries.

"Goddamned incompetent—!" He kicked irritably at the post in an uncharacteristic display of emotion.

Then he stalked angrily back up the driveway, muttering under his breath about the useless Postal Service. Thor kept pace easily, an ear cocked to listen to the quiet, but venomous tirade.

Heero did regain enough composure, partway home, to pause and listen for the rather loud Jeep engine he'd chanced to hear before. But only silence and the hot breeze rustling the leaves met his ears.

By the time he'd checked around all the outbuildings for his missing pet, it was already dusk, and he was in a truly vile mood. Trowa seemed to get the hint the minute he stepped through the door.

"Hey, Heero?" he asked almost tentatively. "I heated up some leftovers. Why don't you call it a day and have some supper?"

"I can't!" Heero snarled. "Zero's still missing. The mail hasn't come. And Leon needs an evening feeding."

"I could—."

"You are _not _going within arm's length of that cage until you are one hundred percent again, Trowa Barton. Do you hear me?"

Trowa smiled wanly. "Yeah, Heero. I do." He gestured towards the table. "C'mon. Zero will come back by dark. You can't hurry the mail by fretting. And Leon—can wait. Sit and eat."

Heero reluctantly slumped into a chair at the table. "Okay," he relented.

He hadn't realized how ravenous he was, until he took the first bite of the casserole Catherine had brought along to compensate for the earlier-than-expected delivery. But when he had to resist the urge to inhale the plateful, he recalled he'd missed lunch altogether, and eaten a hasty breakfast on the fly.

"Gonna let me take better care of you from now on?" Trowa asked gently, seeing his friend pause and take a long sip of tea to wash down an overzealous mouthful. "Seriously, Heero. Slow down. We don't have to do it all at once. _You _don't have to. Stick to the basics and let the rest wait until I can help—."

"Some things can't wait."

"I know that. But let's stick to the bare essentials. You didn't have to patch the barn roof in the half we're not using yet. That could've waited a bit."

"There's no point in doing half the job—."

"A tarp over the worst of the holes would've sufficed until we had two men to do a two-man job."

Heero shrugged one shoulder rather grudgingly, admitting the logic, but not exactly agreeing. "Needed to be done eventually," he muttered. "This way, it's done."

"Yeah, but so are you," Trowa pointed out. "D'you know how guilty you make me feel by pushing yourself so hard? I'm fuckin' _useless_—."

"You're recovering."

"Not fast enough."

Heero scowled deeply. "You talk about me taking on too much? How 'bout you? You just had your knee opened up and practically rebuilt, Barton. You can't expect to be dancing on it a week later."

"I don't. I'd just like to be more helpful—."

"You will be."

"Then slow down and wait for me! How would you feel if _you _were the one stuck in this chair watching someone else doing work that should rightfully be yours?"

Heero paused, and his expression softened, and he finally sighed and nodded. "You're right," he admitted. "I suppose it'd drive me crazy." He looked up from under a fall of dark hair. "I'll—try to just do the most time-driven projects, and leave the rest for later, when we can both participate. Fair enough?"

"Very much so," Trowa said with a relieved smile. "I want a chance to be part of this project, and not just a bystander."

"You'll get it."

A raucous screech from the porch interrupted further conversation, and signaled the return of their missing bird. Both Thor and Balder barked, and ran to investigate, while Wing excitedly called out Zero's name and rattled his beak along the bars of the cage.

Heero stood up at once, relief flooding his face. "Thank God that stupid creature's back," he sighed, hurrying to collect up his pet and secure him for the night.

"And all's right with the world," Trowa said to himself, grinning as he finished his iced tea.


	5. In the Dark

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing, bigotry, some OOC

Pairings: 1X2 eventually, 3X4 also eventually

SMOKY HILLS

"_The winter winds howl like a hoard of banshees as they tear through the canyons. It's a most terrifying sound—not unlike that made by the pumas that roam the ridges. And even though I know it's just the elements—it makes the hairs at the nape of my neck stand on end. I think I know what the screams of demons in Hell would sound like, and I know I do not wish to spend eternity listening to them. What a bone-chilling wail carries on the sharp edge of winter… "_

—_excerpt from the private journal of Ephraim Barton_

Chapter Five: In the Dark

Duo cursed soundly as his hand slipped on the lug wrench and he banged his knuckles on pavement.

"Fuck!" He shook his hand and scowled at the bloody scrapes. "Fuck. Shit. _Fuck_!" The last "fuck" came out almost as a whine.

It was an inordinately hot day for mid-April, and of course it'd be the time he'd get a flat tire out on the route.

Already loaded with extra mail because it was Monday, Duo had looked forward to making back some of the time he'd lost in the office by being quick on the road. And now the damned flat was going to drag his day out even more.

Sweat trickled into his eyes as he repositioned the wrench and loosened another lug nut. "Goddamned, motherfucking, freakin' nail!" he spat, looking at the head poking out from between two treads.

It could be repaired, he knew. But the tire was only a few months old, and he hated to spend more money on it.

Removing the last nut, he straightened and kicked the tire hard, taking out all of his frustration on it—and then biting his lip as it slipped off the lugs and landed squarely on his other foot.

"I hate my life."

It had been over two weeks since the Barton place was added to Duo's route, and he was more or less used to the extra driving. But since he'd left the office over an hour late, due to the mail volume, and spent a solid half an hour changing the tire—he knew it would be almost dark before he reached that farthest point on the road.

He didn't relish the thought of driving up the unlit back road as the evening shadows fell.

"Get over it, Maxwell," he muttered to himself, hastily shoving the spare into place and fastening it securely.

While he knew all the sane, rational facts—i.e. there was no such thing as ghosts, and therefore the old farm couldn't possibly be haunted—he'd grown up hearing tales of weird things happening out in that neck of the woods.

"_Seriously, Duo…there was this chick just walkin' out there in nothin' but a white gown. Like a wedding gown."_

_Duo rolled his eyes, taking another swig of illicit beer. "Right, Alex. A chick out there in the middle of nowhere—."_

"_Hey, my old man swears he saw it, an' he don't lie!"_

"_Yeah, tell him the rest, Alex!" Nikol chimed in._

"_So, dad said he turned around to see if she needed a ride—and she'd just vanished into thin air. But he heard what sounded like someone sobbing out in the woods—really loud, like it was comin' from everywhere at once."_

"_The ghost of Annabelle Barton—that's who it was," Nikol intoned gravely._

"_I am totally not drunk enough to believe this ghost story shit!" Duo insisted, but he glanced away from the campfire, into the shadows surrounding them._

_Solo walked over then, leaning down and ruffling the top of Duo's hair. "You tell 'em, little bro'. Ain't nothin' but bullshit they're slinging."_

"_Yeah, bullshit," Duo echoed, his courage bolstered by Solo's calm confidence._

As he got back into the Jeep and fired it up, Duo couldn't quite banish the memory of some of the wild tales the local kids had told. Bullshit or not, they still teased at the edges of his awareness as he headed for the remote road to the Barton farm.

Sure enough, by the time he got there, it was past dusk and quickly heading towards dark, and Duo gave a frustrated huff as he pulled up to the shiny new mailbox.

"Friggin' middle of nowhere—," he muttered sulkily, yanking open the box and starting to shove in the thick bundle of mail, only to realize there were outgoing letters he'd have to grab first.

He growled a curse under his breath and snatched the offending letters out, then crammed the mail into the small receptacle. But as he did so, the thickening twilight was split by an ear-piercing scream, and Duo jerked his hand back, sending letters flying in all directions.

"Jesus Christ!" he blurted, looking around to see what had made such a blood-curdling sound.

But the dirt driveway was empty, as were the bushes on either side.

Once his heart settled back into a more normal rhythm, and his hands stopped shaking, Duo put the vehicle in park and shut it off, so he could hop out and gather the scattered envelopes.

It didn't help that he kept anxiously looking around for something to leap from the forest, while he hastily retrieved the mail and stuffed it into the box.

He dove back into the Jeep, quickly buckling his seatbelt and starting it up again—just as another loud shriek split the air.

In an instant, he'd thrown the shifter into drive and stepped on the gas, hurtling down the narrow back road as fast as he dared, hoping to put whatever had made the noise far behind him.

His hands didn't stop shaking _this _time, until he was halfway back to the post office, and had gulped down half a Mountain Dew to wet his too-dry throat.

"Fuckin' bullshit!" he muttered under his breath. "No such thing as ghosts."

But then, what had screamed back there in the forest? It sounded human, to Duo's ears—human and filled with terror and pain.

He flipped on the headlights and locked his door for good measure, telling himself it was just about keeping the mail secure—really. He had a responsibility to safeguard those outgoing letters, after all…

When he finally pulled into the post office and parked the vehicle, he breathed a sigh of relief. _Safe at last!_

He didn't know what had made that unearthly noise at the old Barton place, but the cheery little spotlight that illuminated the parking lot made him feel a whole lot better.

He unloaded his trays and carted them inside, to find Quatre just finishing up the dispatch for the evening truck.

"Wow, you ran late today," Quatre commented, watching him haul in the empties and stow away the gear. "I was about to send out a search party."

"I got a flat tire up on South Road and hadda change it," Duo told him, mentally calculating how soon he could afford to have it repaired. "I'd have been back a lot earlier if I didn't have to go all the way out to the Barton farm."

_And damned if that hadn't added insult to injury!_

"I know," Quatre sighed. "It's way off the beaten path. But we're the nearest post office, and since Howard used to deliver there—." He let his voice trail off and shrugged helplessly.

"I think you should make 'em get a p.o. box," Duo told him. "I have to cover five extra miles on the worst roads in town just to deliver to them. And—." He hesitated, knowing that if he tried to tell Quatre about the strange noise he'd heard, his friend would probably laugh in his face.

"And—?"

Duo ducked his head, and shrugged. "Just—it's a pain in the ass."

Quatre gave him a knowing look. "This has nothing to do with the time you thought you saw a mountain lion out there, does it?"

"No!" Duo snapped, glaring at him. "And I _did _see a mountain lion—no matter how much everyone tries to deny it. It freakin' stalked me halfway back to town."

Now that he thought about it, Duo wondered if the scream he heard might have been cat-like. But, no. After his brush with the puma, he'd researched the sounds they made on-line, and it was nothing like what he heard at the Barton place. The scream had sounded human—and anguished. He shivered slightly.

"Duo, you know the DEP says there aren't any—."

"Yeah, and half a dozen people I know have seen 'em," Duo reminded him, happy for the distraction from the memory of that shriek. It was much easier to argue with Quatre than dwell on the frightening sound. "Old man Rudzik swore he saw one—."

"Old man Rudzik drinks. Heavily."

"And Miz Callahan—the school teacher?"

Quatre gave a noncommittal grunt. "Despite the rumors, there's never been any proof."

"That has nothing to do with what happened tonight!" Duo blurted.

"What do you mean?" Quatre asked, suddenly suspicious. "_What_ happened tonight?"

_Ah, crap_. "You mean, aside from the flat tire?" Duo asked, stalling for time.

"That was nowhere near the Barton place. You said South Road."

"Yeah, but it slowed me down so I ended up at the Barton farm in the dark," Duo told him.

"And—?"

Duo hesitated—replaying the disturbing scream in his mind and trying to determine if it could have been a trick of his imagination, or if there could be a reasonable explanation for it.

"F'get it, Quat," he sighed, throwing the outgoing mail into the bucket the postmaster had put in the hamper in the back foyer. "You'll just tell me I've had too much caffeine," he grumbled, retrieving his empty soda can and tossing it into the recycling bin.

Quatre eyed him curiously, sensing that there was something more, but unable to fathom what it could be. He knew Duo had more than his share of bad memories—most of them associated with Smoky Hills and the surrounding area. But the braided man seemed genuinely—spooked.

"I'm goin' home," Duo announced, tossing the last of his stuff into its designated location. "Might stop by the garage on the way there to drop off that tire—see how much it's gonna cost to fix it."

"If you need to borrow a few bucks until payday—."

Duo scowled fiercely. "I don't need charity, Quat! I can pay my own way."

"I know, but—."

"But _nothing_. I'll talk to Mr. Gunderson and see if he'll hang onto it until next week."

"If not, would you let me help you out just this once?" Quatre asked quietly. "Not as your boss—but as your friend. And it wouldn't be charity, Duo—just a short-term loan."

Duo sighed, and the tension slipped away almost as quickly as it had come. "Yeah," he conceded. "Look, Quat, I'm sorry I'm so wound up. It's just been a wicked long day." He ruefully examined his skinned knuckles. "Changing the tire was a bitch, and I'm really, really beat to hell." He mustered a wan smile for his roommate. "See ya at home later?"

"I'll be just a few minutes behind you," Quatre assured him. "Just have to do my closeout reports and certifications, and I can blow this pop stand." He patted Duo's shoulder as he walked by. "Since it's my turn to cook, how 'bout if I bring home Chinese?"

"Sounds great." Duo walked out the back door, hesitating as he faced the dark parking lot and the small circle of brightness cast by the overhead spotlight. For a split-second, it felt like the blackness was pressing in on him—like there was _something _out there.

And then he shook off the feeling, reminding himself that in the light of day, it would seem like nothing more than a dream. As real as that scream had sounded—there was no logical explanation for it.

Maybe he _had _been imagining it—.


	6. Complaints

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, some OOC

Pairings: 1X2 eventually, 3X4 also eventually

A/N: Okay, in honor of Dyna Dee's birthday TODAY, I'm posting an extra chapter. Yes, I know, truly lame. But in my defense, I was too sick last week to write a birthday dedication, so all I can do is offer up a chapter of "Smoky," and hope that since it's the long-awaited Duo/Heero meeting (sort of), it'll be enough of a treat until I get a package sent off to her. So, Happy Birthday Dyna!

SMOKY HILLS

"_Ebenezer was most upset with my refusal to join the Town Council. I tried to appease him by pointing out that my time and energy are better spent with Eliza and our son Jacob, working to make our farm a success. But I'm afraid I might have lost a good friend. Perhaps he didn't know me as well as I thought…"_

—_excerpt from the private journal of Ephraim Barton_

Chapter Six: Complaints

"I'd like to file a complaint."

Quatre was up at the counter, and Duo was busy sorting letters, the morning after the incident by the Barton mailbox. But at the sound of the unfamiliar voice, deep and husky, Duo had to steal a peek.

There was a guy across from Quatre who was just too beautiful for words. His hair was a bit unruly, with a just-out-of-bed tousled look, and he had the deepest blue eyes Duo had ever seen. Finely chiseled features and a slim build just made him look all the more, well, _fuckable_, and Duo cast about for something to hand back to Quatre so he'd have an excuse to go closer.

"What's the problem?" Quatre asked.

"Your letter carrier threw my mail into the bushes yesterday," came the curt response. "It was bad enough he didn't deliver until well after the normal time—but then I found half my mail on the ground!"

Duo poked his head out from behind the case, frowning.

"What's your address?" Quatre inquired politely.

"121 Shady Lane."

"The Barton place?" Quatre asked in surprise.

"Yes, the old farmhouse," replied the man.

"And you are—?"

"Heero Yuy. My colleague and I moved in just a couple of weeks ago."

Duo had heard enough at that point, and couldn't help but walk up to protest. "I didn't throw your mail into the bushes," he said hotly. "I dropped some when—." _Oops—shouldn't talk about the strange screams and let the hot guy think he was a nut. _"—I got startled. I picked them up and put them into the box afterwards."

Heero held out several rather ratty-looking envelopes. "You missed some. I had documents that got damaged by your carelessness."

"I wasn't careless," Duo snarled back, deciding that good looks notwithstanding, the guy was a jerk. "They slipped."

"Perhaps if you didn't deliver in the dark—."

"Perhaps if I didn't have to go ten miles out of my way, it wouldn't _be _dark when I got there!"

The man turned a flat, cold gaze to Quatre. "Are you the postmaster here?"

"Um, yes."

"What are you going to do about my complaint?"

"Ah—." Quatre looked a little panicky, sliding Duo a sidelong glance. "I'll certainly advise Mister Maxwell to be more careful with your mail, sir. And as for the lateness, he was delayed by a flat tire. That rarely happens, and I'm sure it won't be a problem again in the near future."

"Quat—!" Duo protested "What about making him get a p.o. box? Then he wouldn't have to worry about my flat tire or his stupid mail getting _accidentally _dropped."

"I don't wish to come here every day to get my mail," the man said icily. "I believe universal delivery is mandated by Congress, is it not?"

"Of course," Quatre said smoothly, regaining his poise quickly. "It's just been awhile since Duo's route went all the way out to that part of town. He's had to get used to the extra travel time." He gave Duo a firm shove back towards his case, with a warning look to accompany it.

Duo gave ground reluctantly, glaring over his shoulder as he left.

"I can assure you, Mister Yuy, you'll have no further problems," Quatre told him, turning on the customer service charm full blast. "Duo will be extra careful with your mail. You have my word on that."

"I hope so," came a chill response. "I'd hate to have to take my complaint any higher."

_Oh fuck him! _Duo turned to go back to the counter, but Quatre made a surreptitious gesture for him to stay put, and so he grudgingly did.

Of course, the instant the dark-haired man walked out the door, the braided mail carrier was back up at Quatre's side. "The guy's a flaming asshole!" he told his boss angrily. "I can't help that I got startled and dropped the mail. I thought I got 'em all picked up!"

"Apparently not," Quatre replied. "Don't sweat it, Duo. I know you wouldn't deliberately damage anyone's mail." He put a soothing hand on his employee's shoulder. "Hell, you deliver to most of those 'bigots and bullies' you despise so much. And even they can't find anything to complain about with the mail service."

"Yeah, well, at least Otto and Trant get their mail out of the bigger office down by the railroad tracks—or I don't think you'd still be able to say that," Duo admitted. As dedicated as he was to his job, he didn't think having to deliver mail to his arch-enemies was something he could be professional about.

Quatre smiled back at him. "You're a good mailman, Duo. I'm sure you'd do your job no matter what."

Duo's eyes narrowed and he pursed his lips. "I s'pose. But it's damned tempting to toss Mister 'I've got a complaint' Yuy's next grocery flyer right into the reservoir on my way past." A smirk found its way past his pissed-off look. "Guy's probably a fuckin' coupon-clipper—wanna bet?"

Quatre chuckled, relieved that Duo was taking the complaint with a bit of humor. "I never take a losing bet. You know that."

"Yeah," Duo acknowledged a bit ruefully.

"You're just sore because a cute guy took such a negative attitude with you," Quatre pointed out.

"Cute? Yeah. Like a _pitbull's _cute."

"They are when they're puppies," Quatre said a bit dreamily.

Duo rolled his eyes and cracked a genuine smile, unable to maintain his grumbling in the face of his boss' teasing. "But Quat—you're even cuter than a puppy. Don't ever change."

"I don't plan to," came the innocent reply.

"I didn't mean to drop his mail," Duo spoke up again, unable to leave the subject just yet. "Seriously."

"I know, Duo."

"If he hadn't been on such a high horse, I'd have apologized for it," Duo added.

"I'm sure you would have." Quatre turned as another customer walked in, making the little bell over the door chime merrily. "Let it go, Duo—and get back to casing so you can finish before dark tonight, hm?"

"Right-o, boss," came the snide response, as Duo sauntered back to resume his sorting.

He was doing what he did best—avoiding thinking about how humiliated he felt, having been chastised for what had been an embarrassing slip-up in the first place. But that didn't push it completely from his mind.

Instead, he found himself muttering under his breath about the "blue-eyed asshole," as he sorted his mail into delivery sequence.

And why did those stupid eyes stand out in his mind, anyway? They'd been filled with nothing but contempt.

Hilde had raved about them too, hadn't she? _Great eyes._

Even Duo had to agree with her assessment. But he hated every minute of it.

Fortunately, his day didn't get any worse. In fact, he was pleasantly surprised when he found that he had a package for Mrs. Heinz requiring a signature. And that meant _cookies_.

He hadn't been kidding when he'd said her sugar cookies were the best, and every time he brought something to her door, she had a plate on hand and insisted on sending some home with him.

She was a sweet old lady, even if she _did_ totally overlook his sexual orientation and urge him to call her granddaughter for a date. That kind of blind bias he could overlook. At least she wasn't calling him a faggot or queer, like certain others in the town.

"Hey, Quatre—guess who's got a 'cookie call' today?" Duo piped up, holding the package over his head victoriously.

"Accepting bribes again?" teased his boss, glad to see a smile on his friend's face. "Make sure it's enough for both of us."

"I always share the spoils," Duo reminded him. "Remember Christmas?"

"How could I forget?"

They'd been inundated with homemade cookies and pies, as well as chocolates, candy, and the occasional bottle of wine. The residents of Smoky Hills were very generous to their dedicated postal workers. And Christmas seemed to be the time their good will reached a peak.

"So—since I'll be providing dessert tonight, are you makin' dinner?"

"Gladly."

Duo finished his mail prep with a smile, humming contentedly as he trayed the letters and hauled them out to his Jeep. Despite the cranky Japanese customer's visit, the day was turning out just fine.

He still felt that way a couple of hours later as he pulled up at the foot of Mrs. Heinz's driveway, and parked his vehicle.

Retrieving the parcel from the back seat, he grabbed her handful of mail as well, and a few biscuits for her hoard of ravenous dogs.

That was the one obstacle to reaching the kindly old lady—he had to negotiate his way through her beloved dachshunds.

He walked up the sidewalk to her door, gave a quick, firm knock, and was immediately assaulted by the sound of numerous little barking voices.

Before she'd even opened the inner door, Duo was down on one knee, dog biscuits in hand, prepared for the flurry of activity. And sure enough, when she arrived and pushed the screen open, half a dozen wriggling, yapping dogs bounded out and pranced around Duo, collecting ear scratches and delivering doggy kisses to the face he leaned down close to them.

He'd learned early on that there was no point in trying to evade them—they only seemed more determined to lavish affection on a reluctant victim.

"Easy, ya little fiends," he chuckled, trying to let them get their excitement out of the way so he could calm them down and hand the woman her package. "C'mon—setzen!" he ordered, just the way the little German woman had taught him.

Instantly, six wiggly butts hit the boards of the porch, and all the dogs looked up eagerly, squirming in place, until he carefully set a biscuit in each set of jaws.

Then he stood up, and the dogs busily crunched their treats, while he collected Mrs. Heinz's signature on his receipt, and gave her the parcel.

"Thank you, Duo," she said warmly, stuffing a baggie full of cookies into his hand along with the pen and paper. "You are always so good with the 'children.'"

He gave a shrug, eyeing the homemade cookies appreciatively. "They're too cute to resist," he assured her.

"That's not what that nasty Mister Roberts says," she told him, as if imparting a great secret, and a huge injustice. "He tried to claim my little Ivan dug a hole under the fence and ruined his prize begonias!"

"The cad," Duo said with a sympathetic shake of his head, having had to listen to the neighbor's side of the story just a couple of weeks earlier. "I'm sure if one of the 'children' did something like that, you'd replace any plants he lost. After all, they're just flowers—."

She looked a bit troubled. "Well, they _are _his most cherished possessions. You _know _what an avid gardener that man is."

"Absolutely!" Judging by the pensive look on the woman's face, Duo knew she'd be calling up Mister Roberts and offering to help replace his begonias within the hour. She really _was _a sweetheart, and didn't deserve to fret over such a small incident.

He leaned closer and lowered his voice conspiratorially. "I once walked across his newly-seeded lawn by accident."

"You didn't!"

He nodded solemnly. "When he noticed the footprints, I blamed the UPS man."

The elderly woman laughed almost as hard as Duo did, her grey eyes twinkling with humor. "You are a darling, Duo—so nice to an old woman and her pack of dogs—."

"Old? You've got a long way to go for that," he teased. "And as for your dogs—." He paused to stroke the head of the eldest dachshund, who'd jumped up and braced herself against his knee. "I love the little scamps, truly. Besides," he added wistfully. "Theirs are the only kisses I'm gettin' these days."

She shook her head. "I've offered to fix you up with my granddaughter over in Lakeville. Nice young fella like you should have a girl to settle down with, instead of charming old women and their dogs."

His smile was a bit forced. "Not in the cards, I'm afraid," he told her. "Maybe when I grow up." He gave a teasing wink. "Besides, they don't make 'em like you any more."

He left her blushing and smiling behind him as he made his way back to the Jeep, a little bit sorry to resume driving his solitary route after basking in the warm welcome she always gave.

He settled for savoring the taste of one of the homemade cookies while he worked, reflecting that customers like Mrs. Heinz made his job well worth the small aggravations.

Of course, thinking of aggravations brought his mind back to the matter of Heero Yuy and his surly complaint. The guy _did_ have a point, Duo was forced to concede. He really _had _dropped the mail in the bushes. And if he hadn't been in such a panic, he might have taken the time to recover it all.

But the guy didn't have to make a federal case out of it.

Duo brooded over that the whole way out to the remote location, torn between remorse for having messed up some letters, and anger that the man hadn't even given him a chance to explain. He even considered writing a brief apology—something along the lines of "sorry I dropped your mail—it really _was _an accident—and you didn't have to be such an asshole about it—."

Or maybe not.

By the time he got to the Barton mailbox, he'd pretty much decided to just forget the whole incident. He'd screwed up, yes. But Yuy had been arrogant and snotty. So they were both bad, right? The score was even.

With that thought in mind, Duo took the handful of mail, and lined every letter up perfectly, largest to smallest, before placing it carefully into the box. Yuy wanted to bitch, eh? Well, he'd get no more ammunition from his letter carrier—_that _was for damned sure.

Duo looked at the mail, neatly arranged in the receptacle, and resisted an urge to place one of Mrs. Heinz's cookies on top. There was no way he'd share such bounty with Yuy, even if he did feel badly about the ruined letters.

At the last second though, he grabbed a page off his small note pad—the one with the post office logo prominently displayed—and wrote "sorry about your damaged mail," tossing it into the box and shutting it before he could change his mind.

There. That was all the apology Yuy deserved. Yes, Duo _was _sorry some letters got damaged—but he was damn sure not gonna grovel about it. A simple note should be more than enough. And if it wasn't, well, there was no reaching the new customer anyway.

Feeling like he'd at least done his part to smooth things over, Duo headed back towards the office, looking forward to ending his day on time, and enjoying a nice dinner and even better dessert.


	7. First Impressions

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, some OOC

Pairings: 1X2 eventually, 3X4 also eventually

SMOKY HILLS

_"Work on a farm is never done, though I suppose that's stating the obvious; building a dream is a full time occupation. While I'm out working in the fields, making trips to town for supplies, or splitting wood to build up our winter stockpile, Eliza stays busy with harvesting the vegetable garden, filling the root cellar and putting by as much as possible. How she also manages laundry, cooking, cleaning, and chasing after little Jacob, I'll never comprehend. The woman is simply amazing. I should tell her that more often, I think…"_

—_excerpt from the private journal of Ephraim Barton_

Chapter Seven: First Impressions

Heero threw the handful of mail on the passenger seat of his car as he climbed into the driver's side, the image of the scowling mailman still fixed in his mind.

_Attitude. _The man clearly had an attitude. _And that braid—!_

The Japanese man frowned, thinking how very unorthodox his letter carrier was—both in appearance and personality. He'd rather expected a stolid, older man—someone who might take the job seriously.

Instead, he'd found a very young, very flippant guy, who clearly was disgruntled about having to drive all the way out to the farm to deliver the mail.

A small smirk found its way to Heero's lips as he started up the car and headed for the town hall. In all honesty, he found it perversely pleasing that he'd obviously inconvenienced the lazy civil servant.

Obviously the mailman was used to an easy routine, and the extra work put a crimp in his free time. Well, tough luck! A little hard work never hurt anyone; at least, that's what Heero's parents had taught him at a very early age. And he'd espoused that belief his whole life.

Frankly, he felt that if more people had a well-developed work ethic, things would run much smoother in the world.

He glanced down at the list on the seat beside him: post office, bank, town hall, gas station, pharmacy, pet store, and grocery store. Well, he could cross off the first stop, but he expected the others to take up what remained of his morning, and a fair portion of the afternoon.

His estimate was about right. While the town hall visit was merely to pick up a copy of zoning regulations, it included a lengthy wait in line and then a discussion with the clerk about which sections he needed. On top of that, there was a charge of ten cents per page for the copies, and he ended up having to wait for the busy clerk to free up some time to _make_ the aforementioned copies.

He rolled his eyes in frustration as he left the building, thinking that if only the town were a bit more up-to-date, they'd have all this information posted on-line, where it would be a simple matter to bring up the needed sections and print them—free of charge.

"What a backwards place," he muttered, crossing item number three off his list and heading for the gas station.

When he got there, he almost went inside to pay up front, but then recalled that in this tiny station, you dispensed the gas first and then paid afterwards. It wasn't like the city, where you could swipe your own card at the pump.

Again, he shook his head, feeling a bit like he'd stepped backwards in time. Apparently, technology hadn't quite caught up to Smoky Hills. The town seemed like it was preserved in a bubble—harking back to a simpler time, and a simpler world.

"Hey, you're back!" The girl behind the counter greeted him like an old friend when he stepped inside to pay.

He gave a curt nod at her statement of the obvious.

"Which pump?"

"Number one."

She punched in the number and smiled up at him. "Twenty-three fifty."

When he handed her his credit card, she eyed the name and then swiped it through the machine. "So—you live at the Barton place, Mister Yuy?"

"Yes."

"What's it like?"

He gave a casual shrug, his eyes narrowing at the prying questions. "It's a farm. I suppose it's much like any other farm."

She shook her head, her earrings jangling with the motion. "The Barton place isn't like any other," she asserted. "It's been the best-kept secret in town for years."

Heero raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. "How so?"

"Well—the previous residents never let us kids near the place. There were 'no trespassing' signs everywhere—an' the old man kept big hound dogs and a shotgun filled with rock salt. Hardly anybody ever dared get close enough to see the place."

"Ah."

Hilde laid down the credit card slip and a pen. "So, is the new Mister Barton any nicer than his ancestors?"

A tiny smirk touched Heero's lips. "Probably not. And yes, we _do _have dogs." He signed the receipt, and picked up his copy. "Good day, Miss."

"Hilde!" she said quickly, smiling back. "Just call me Hilde."

He gave a curt nod and turned away, eager to cross another errand off his list and keep moving. While he was well aware the girl had been trying to both dig for information, and flirt, he had neither the time nor the inclination to indulge her. Trowa was waiting back at the farm, and although he'd left lunch on the night stand for his injured friend, he wanted to be back early in case he was needed.

* * *

The rest of the day flew past in a steady succession of tasks, and it was late afternoon before Heero found himself driving up the back road towards the farm.

He stopped at the mailbox, pulling out a fairly thick stack of mail and tossing it into the top of one of the grocery bags, pleased that his lecture to the postman seemed to have had the desired effect. The mail was on time, and inside the box.

"Mission accomplished," he smirked, shifting the car into gear and pulling into the driveway.

When Heero stepped into the house, juggling three bags of groceries and a gallon of milk, he nearly tripped over one of his huge grey wolfhounds, who'd come to greet him at the door.

"Agh! Thor—back off!" he ordered crossly, sighing as the big dog moved away. But then he muttered a curse as the milk began to slip from his tenuous grasp.

When the milk was lifted from his weakening grip, he looked up in surprise. "Trowa! What are you doing out of your wheelchair?"

His auburn-haired roommate gestured to the crutches supporting his weight. "Exercising."

"It's too soon!" came the concerned response.

"I've been careful," Trowa insisted. "And the doctors said it'd be okay to start some weight-bearing exercises this week."

"Yes—with assistance," Heero reminded him, setting aside the grocery bags and taking back the jug of milk. "Let me put this away. You can't possibly maneuver on crutches with this thing in your hand."

"Prob'ly not," Trowa conceded. He followed along as Heero took first the milk and then the rest of the groceries to the kitchen and began unpacking bags. "How'd it go in town?"

"Fine."

Trowa hobbled over to the table and lowered himself into a chair. "How 'bout more than a one-word answer, Heero?" He chided, reaching for the cup of tea he'd made himself, and taking a sip.

Heero gave a long-suffering sigh. "I stopped at the post office and complained about the damaged mail, and then went downtown to deposit my paycheck, pick up a copy of the zoning regulations, fill the gas tank, pick up your meds, buy dog food, and get some groceries. There's not much to tell, Trowa."

"What did they say about the mail?" Trowa prodded, so bored from being housebound that he was hungry for information from the outside world.

"The postmaster promised me it won't happen again," Heero told him, tucking the bread into the breadbox. "Of course, the letter carrier came up and bitched about having to drive all the way out here." He allowed himself another smug smirk. "He wanted us to get a post office box, but I assured him that _won't _be happening."

Trowa grinned too, able to picture his stern friend glaring down the mailman. "Bet he just loves you to death."

"He was an ass," Heero said flatly. "Hair down to his thighs…not in uniform…drives a beat-up old Jeep that looks like it could break down at any second. In fact, the postmaster tried telling me he'd had a flat tire, which was why the mail was so late yesterday." He gave a derisive snort. "Looking at that hunk of junk, I could believe it." He opened the refrigerator and began putting away perishables.

"Maybe the guy can't afford anything better," Trowa pointed out, nibbling on the edge of a cookie.

"On a civil servant's pay?" Heero shook his head. "I would expect he could at least afford reliable transportation, since he has to use it for work. I heard they get compensated for that—some sort of vehicle allowance. Obviously he never spends a dime of it on his vehicle."

"Maybe he needs his money for conditioner for all that hair," Trowa teased. "Down to his thighs, you said?"

"Yes. In a braid." Heero scowled faintly as he stacked the old egg carton on top of the new, so they'd know which was fresher. "I can't imagine why anyone would want hair that long."

"Well it sounds pretty odd, for a guy." Trowa raised an eyebrow. "Maybe he's gay."

He got a sharp look from Heero, followed by a shrug. "Could be. But my money's on his boss. He seemed more the type…soft-spoken…kind of, well, _pretty_."

"Oh. So braid-guy wasn't pretty?"

Heero opened his mouth to disagree, but caught himself sharply. "I couldn't tell," he said flatly. "His loud mouth and attitude were hard to look beyond." He turned back to his arranging of the refrigerator. "His boss, however, had blonde hair and blue eyes, and at least knew enough about customer service to be polite to me. When he said the incident wouldn't happen again, I believed him."

"Right," Trowa snorted, finishing off his tea.

"I did."

Trowa shook his head. "You're the original skeptic, Yuy. You _never _take anything at face value…let alone a line of sweet hogwash fed to you by a customer service representative."

Heero frowned thoughtfully, and finally shrugged. "You may be right. I'll put it this way. It _better_ never happen again!"

"Or—?"

"Or I'll take my complaint a few levels higher next time."

Trowa gave a chuckle. "You're a hardass, Heero. You know that?"

"Yes, I do," came the very serious answer. "Do you want chicken or fish for dinner?"

Trowa laughed again. "Fish sounds nice." He fingered the stack of papers that Heero had taken from one bag and set on the table. "Hm…looks like your mailman took you seriously," he commented. "Your mail's sorted according to size—and—there's a note."

He read the message scrawled on the note paper, and gave a rueful chuckle. "Poor kid. You've got him apologizing for the damaged mail."

"He should. I don't care what lame excuse he had about being 'startled.' There was no reason for him leaving mail on the ground like that."

Trowa shrugged. "Sounds like he's sorry about it. Maybe give him another chance, hm?"

"You're welcome to do just that," came an indifferent response.

"Like I said—hardass."

"And proud of it."

Trowa moved on to the papers underneath the mail. "Is this the zoning stuff?"

"Such as it is. They wouldn't give me a complete set of regs; the book is a couple of inches thick. But they copied the pages regarding livestock, as well as the codes for new structures. I got them to throw in any information regarding variances, as well as applications for building permits."

The auburn-haired man shuffled through several pages, his brow furrowed in thought. And then he looked up at Heero, who was already laying things out in preparation for making dinner. "D'you really think I should go through with this?"

"You mean selling the place to a developer—or the _other _idea you had."

Trowa scowled at him. "You know which one," he growled.

The Japanese man stopped what he was doing and turned to face his roommate, his expression softening. "If this is your dream, Trowa, to make this farm into something more than it was, then by all means, I think you should pursue it. You know I'll help in any way I can."

"Yes, you've said that," Trowa sighed. "But when we came here, the plan was just to let me rest and heal up, then fix the place up to sell it."

"And if that's what you decide to do, I'll back you one hundred percent."

The tall, slim man at the table let out a huff of frustration. "You'll back me—but you won't tell me what I should do!"

"It's your decision," Heero shrugged, turning back to the counter. "This farm is _your _inheritance, not mine."

"Yes, but after all you've done for me, you deserve to have your wishes taken into account, too," Trowa pointed out, his green eyes troubled. "If we start this project, you'll be here a lot longer than the two months we originally planned. Will they hold your job that long?"

Heero stiffened, but didn't turn around. "They'll hold my job as long as necessary," he said tightly. "And you know I'm in no hurry to return to it."

"I don't blame you," Trowa said firmly. "But I do worry about you. You're supposed to be having a quiet interlude in the country to rest and recoup. Somehow I don't think your therapist envisioned you performing lots of manual labor as well."

"But she did say I should keep busy and find diversions that occupy my mind." Heero turned to fix a level gaze on his friend. "Renovating that dilapidated old barn should fit the bill perfectly."

Trowa smiled back at him. "You've got a point there. It'll take plenty of planning; that's for sure."

"And secrecy," Heero noted. "Apparently this place is something of a curiosity for locals. The girl at the gas station was asking a lot of questions."

A faint frown settled across Trowa's brow. "What did you tell her?"

"Just that you're probably as anti-social as the last Mister Barton and we keep dogs—big dogs." Heero glanced over at Thor and Balder, the two wolfhounds lounging in a corner of the roomy kitchen keeping tabs on their master.

"You keep dogs," Trowa pointed out. "Me—I'm into things a bit more—exotic."

"And illegal," Heero added. "At least until we get our permits lined up. Best to keep folks away with whatever stories they want to cook up, until we have all those issues settled."

"I agree."

Heero gave a short nod, and reached up into the cupboard. "Rice or pasta?"

"Rice, of course."

"Of course."

Trowa watched Heero measure out the water and seasoning for the rice, and then glanced hopefully at the refrigerator. "Do we have any broccoli left?"

"I bought some—along with the greens and fruit for Zero. I'm sure he won't begrudge us a couple of servings."

As if on cue, there was a flutter of sound, and the large grey parrot flew in from the recently repaired and reinforced screened porch, alighting on Heero's shoulder. "Fruit for Zero?" he demanded in a voice with the same inflection as Heero's.

The Japanese man smiled and reached up to ruffle the feathers under the bird's chin. "Yes, I brought fruit." He went to the refrigerator and took out a mango, cutting a wedge-shaped piece and holding it out to the eager beak. "Go eat your snack," he told the bird.

Zero grabbed the morsel and flew over to a sturdy perch that took up a corner by the window. There he busied himself delicately eating the tender flesh of the fruit and making contented sounds.

"Where's Wing?" Heero asked, looking around for Trowa's ever-present myna bird.

"In his cage," replied the green-eyed man with a frown. "He decided to amuse himself by dissecting the flower arrangement in the dining room, and I thought he needed a time out."

"The flowers Catherine brought?" Heero asked, smirking. "He's lucky that's all you did. _She'd _serve him for Thanksgiving if she found out."

"In plum sauce," Trowa agreed amiably.

"Speaking of sauce, would you like the fish grilled or baked?"

"What kind of fish?"

"Salmon."

"Oh, grill it!" Trowa said eagerly. "It'll be delicious with some lemon and seasoning."

Heero walked over and set down a platter with a large fillet on it. "I'll gather the ingredients. You sit and rest that knee while you prepare the fish, and I'll go start the grill."

They worked well together, Trowa handling the prep work that could be done while seated, and Heero acting as his "gofer," bringing whatever tools he needed. And less than half an hour later, they were seated in the shady, screened-in porch eating their supper.

Neither man was a big talker, so they ate in companionable silence, cleared the table the same way, and then settled in to watch the evening news.


	8. TGIF?

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing, bigotry, some OOC

Pairings: 1X2 eventually, 3X4 also eventually

SMOKY HILLS

_"__My darling Eliza, daring woman that she is, dragged me off to see the swimming hole she found. It's a lovely, clear pool, nestled amid mossy banks. And the unusual heat for this early in spring fooled us into thinking a quick dip might be a good idea. We soon found that the mountain-fed stream is downright bone-chilling at this time of year. If only we'd known that before leaping headlong right into it…"_

—_excerpt from the private journal of Ephraim Barton_

Chapter Eight: TGIF?

It was Friday at the post office, Duo's self-proclaimed favorite day, because as he put it, "You've got the whole weekend to look forward to! By Saturday, you're tryin' to figure out how much you can get done so you can relax on Sunday, and on Sunday, you know the next day's Monday, so it just saps all the fun right out of it. But Friday—the whole weekend stretches out ahead of you—blissful anticipation!"

Quatre looked down at the letter he'd just sorted, wondering how much of a damper it'd put on Duo's much-loved Friday.

It was addressed to Heero Yuy, Smoky Hills, from someone listed as R. Darlian in Sanc. It was also sent via registered mail, which meant Duo would have to acquire a signature before delivering the piece. And _that _meant he'd have to take it to the door, knock, and deal with the man who'd so bitterly complained about poor service just a few days before.

"Lovely."

The postmaster wrote up the slip to be signed, and jotted the numbers down on his sheet of accountable mail, and then walked back and handed the clipboard to Duo, watching for his reaction.

The letter carrier began to perfunctorily initial next to each item, until he looked at the last one and saw the name. "Yuy?" he exploded in horror. "I've got a registered for that bastard?"

"Um, yes," Quatre said carefully, trying not to smirk. It would only infuriate his volatile friend.

"Christ!" blurted Duo, looking up pleadingly. "Can't I just leave a notice in the mailbox?"

"You know that's not how it works," replied his boss patiently. "You have to actually attempt it."

"It's not even addressed properly," Duo pointed out, gesturing to the missing street address. "It's just got his name and the town on it."

"We know who he is, Duo. And where he lives. We have to at least try."

"But—the driveway's gotta be over half a mile long! I'm not supposed to have to go more than a mile off the route for one of these."

"The driveway is not that long," Quatre assured him. "It can't possibly be more than a quarter-mile in. That's half a mile round trip, and certainly within delivery parameters."

"He's probably not home anyway," Duo protested. "You know sometimes the mail piles up in that box for a couple of days."

So what if it had only happened once—it still had accumulated two days' worth of mail.

"You can't assume he's not around," came the implacable reply. "Duo, you know you have to try." Quatre fixed a stern glare on his employee. "And I mean really try. Don't give me a song and dance about how you did, if you actually didn't."

Duo scowled in return. "You know I don't lie, Quat."

"After the mountain lion incident—."

"I did not lie about that!" Duo said hotly. "And it wasn't my imagination, either! The damned thing followed me almost the whole way back to town. I don't care how many people think it's just a myth. There are mountain lions in these hills!"

"Be that as it may," sighed Quatre. "You have to take this piece of mail to Yuy's door, like it or not. Understand?"

Duo grumbled under his breath, dropping his gaze to the offending letter. "Fine."

"Promise you'll take it to the door?"

"Fuck it, yeah!" snapped Duo.

"Thanks." Quatre clapped him on the shoulder and returned to his desk work, while Duo glared unhappily down at the piece of mail.

"Probably get killed by freakin' axe murderers," he mumbled irritably. "Maybe _then _he'll believe me. Be too late, of course, but still—my tombstone could read 'Duo was right,' for all the good it'd do me…"

"I'll make sure it's a very nice funeral," Quatre said in a pleasant, conversational tone, smirking at his paperwork.

"Gee, thanks."

With the unpleasant letter casting a pall over Duo's beloved Friday, the rest of the morning passed in near-silence. In fact, the letter carrier went so far as to put on his headset and listen to his own music, instead of joking around and switching the office radio to a rock station to see how long it'd take Quatre to decide it wasn't "proper" for a postal facility to be playing Nine Inch Nails.

When he was finally ready to go, and had loaded up the Jeep and signed out on his time sheet, he paused at the door and waited for Quatre to finish with the customer at the window.

"I'm heading out," he told his boss, waving the handful of accountable pieces. "If I don't make it back, I just want to say for the record 'I _told _you so!'"

Quatre smiled, knowing he was forgiven for being the bearer of bad news. "Drive carefully, Duo," he said in their usual farewell. "Stay safe out there."

"Well, I would if I could," came the snide retort. Duo saluted with the letters. "We who are about to die—."

"Just get going!" Quatre laughed, waving him away.

Duo smirked and headed out, eager to get finished and begin to enjoy his weekend. Scary farm notwithstanding, he planned to make record time on the route, so he could stop at the grocery store on the way home and treat Quatre to steaks on the grill. It was payday, after all.

Eager as he was, Duo did indeed make good time, and found himself driving up around the reservoir in the early afternoon.

It was cooler than the beginning of the week had been, but he still found himself thinking back to summers spent playing in the creeks and forests of Smoky Hills. There'd been some particularly memorable occasions—the time up in Enders Forest when he'd first gotten the nerve to jump off the rock ledge and into the deep swimming hole down below it.

That had been a favorite pastime for locals—playing in the chilly water that cascaded down out of the mountains into pools framed by mossy rocks, and shaded by tall pines and oaks.

There'd been plenty of skinny-dipping, too, especially when the kids were too young to really care about nudity and the implications. Duo had seen his first naked girl at that swimming hole, not that it mattered now that he knew where his preferences lay. But at the time, it had seemed like a pretty big deal.

He was drawn forcibly back to the present when he saw a deer trotting across the road up ahead, and quickly slowed to avoid a collision and watch for more of the tawny animals. It seemed like there was never one, but a whole herd crossing the road.

Sure enough, two more trotted after it, and then all three ghosted off into the trees.

"Whew." He reached across to his travel mug, taking a swig of the cold tea he'd filled it with that morning, and counted himself lucky to have noticed the deer in plenty of time to stop. They were an ever-present danger out here, as some kids from high school had discovered when speeding on the winding back roads.

Duo remembered attending Nikol's funeral—trying to comfort his brother Alex, who'd been driving that night, and the girls who'd been in the back seat and survived as well. But then, after Solo left, Alex had started hanging out with Otto and Trant, and now was on the opposite side of the fence from the braided man.

When he passed the spot where the accident had occurred, Duo looked automatically for the huge scar on the trunk of the sturdy oak that had stopped the swerving vehicle. Nikol had died instantly.

"Lucky bastard," Duo sighed, shaking his head. "Got outta this stinkhole of a town, didn't you?"

He could almost hear Nikol's familiar laugh, and imagine the other boy tearing down the hall of the high school after pulling one of his famous pranks. He'd been a good kid—like Alex had been, before taking up with the town thugs.

"Water under the fuckin' bridge," Duo reminded himself. "Or over the spillway," he added, thinking of the damn that formed the reservoir and the spillway that dried up in summer and ran wildly in spring, when the ice melted on the mountains and the streams filled it to capacity and beyond.

When he got to the driveway for the Barton farm, Duo hesitated, old fears and hesitations coming back to remind him there was no trespassing allowed. He could almost see Old Man Barton, shotgun raised, warning the kids who'd blundered into one of his cornfields to "Git, or else!"

But he had every right to be here now, driving up that lane with a legitimate purpose. So he turned in and headed for the farmhouse, gripping the wheel just a little tighter than necessary, and half-expecting the old man's ghost to send him packing.

After a singularly anti-climactic drive, he pulled up in front of the old house, raising an eyebrow at the sight of the neatly-trimmed path, the newly-painted front door, and windows that shone in the sun. It looked—cozy. And big. He'd had no idea how sprawling the building was, seeing as he'd never gotten close enough for a good look.

"Wow. Nice place," he admitted, trying not to feel disappointed that there were no broken windows, sagging shutters, or ghoulish faces peering from behind cobwebs of curtains.

He shut off the Jeep and grabbed a pen and the registered letter off the dashboard. Time to face the scariest part of the old place—the new inhabitant.

"Maybe he's not home," he said under his breath, looking around for a car, and seeing none. "Maybe he's downtown—buying tarps to wrap up the bodies. Or paper to write complaints on."

That last bit made Duo grin at his own joke, and he felt a little better as he headed reluctantly up the stone walkway to the brooding old farmhouse.

Porch steps creaked under his weight at he climbed them, and he winced, hoping maybe no one heard and there'd be no answer to his knock on the door.

Of course, when he tripped over the doormat and slammed into the wall with his shoulder while trying to catch himself, he figured his sneak method had been a waste of time. So he gathered himself up, brushed himself off, opened the screen door, and knocked firmly on the oak one. Who knew? Maybe he'd get lucky and the mysterious green-eyed Barton guy would come to the door.

He heard the sound of barking, deep and throaty, coming from inside the house, and let the screen door close, figuring if Yuy opened the inner door, it might at least slow down a charging dog.

Or wolf, if the husky sound was any indication of size. "Damn…sounds big," he muttered, glancing over his shoulder to plot the fastest route back to his vehicle.

Of course, then he saw the massive grey hound standing beside it.

"Fuck!" he hissed, wondering how something so huge had managed to slip up silently behind him.

A loose dog would have been the perfect excuse not to leave his car at all, and he wondered how he'd overlooked something that size as he drove up.

Just as he was debating whether to try to slink past the monstrous creature, who seemed content to stand beside his Jeep, the door behind him opened and he spun to find Mister Yuy standing there with the same glower he'd worn at the counter of the post office a few days earlier, and another wolfhound beside him.

The Japanese man looked as if he'd been awakened. His hair was a bit more disheveled than it had been the last time Duo laid eyes on him, and he wore sweatpants and a loose tee shirt. "What do you want?"

Duo suddenly realized he was staring. "Oh, um, I've got a registered letter for you to sign for." He held out the pink slip and pen.

The man slid the screen door open just far enough to take both items. "Who's it from?"

Duo looked at the envelope. "Uh…looks like R. Darlian."

The man's scowl deepened, and he thrust the paper and pen back at Duo. "I don't want it."

"What?"

"I said I don't want it. Send it back." The keen eyes fixed a discerning look on Duo. "I can refuse it, right?"

"Well, yeah," Duo admitted. "But no one ever does."

"I am."

"Why?" Duo couldn't help asking.

"That's none of your business," Heero retorted. "Just do your job and send the damned thing back." He started to close the oak door.

"Hey, wait!" Duo blurted. "I—there's a dog over by my Jeep. How'm I supposed to get back there?"

The dark-haired man followed the finger Duo pointed at the huge hound, and made an impatient noise in the back of his throat. "He's not vicious. Walk right past him."

Duo gave the dog a skeptical look. "I—ah—I'd rather not," he told Mister Yuy. "We aren't even supposed to leave the vehicle if there's a dog loose. You never know when they might get territorial."

"He's not."

Duo glared at the man, reflecting that if animals took after their owners the grey beast would probably maul him before he got halfway down the walk. "Call your dog, or I'll call my boss," he snarled.

"Oh for fuck's sake," came the irritable response. The man pushed back the dog at his side, and opened the screen door. "Thor, come!"

The huge wolfhound trotted happily up the steps, brushing past Duo and into the house, where it wagged its tail at the other dog before both romped off together.

"Satisfied?" snapped the blue-eyed man, his scornful glare back on Duo. "Or should I hold your hand and walk you back to your—?" He paused and gave the beat-up old Jeep a scathing look. "—car?"

Duo opened his mouth to tell the man to go fuck himself, and then recalled that he was supposed to be on the job, and supposed to be a professional. He settled for giving him an icy look. "Don't expect any more deliveries to the door, if you've got loose animals running around. It's against postal policy."

"He's not usually out alone," came the cold reply.

"I'm not taking any chances," Duo retorted, turning on his heel and stomping back down the squeaky steps, before stalking angrily back to the Jeep.

He yanked open the door and climbed in, tossing the refused letter into his outgoing tray, and putting on his seatbelt before starting up the car and roaring out of the yard in a shower of dirt and gravel. A quick glance in his rearview mirror showed that the antisocial homeowner was still at the screen, watching him leave, and he figured there'd probably be a call made to Quatre about his driving.

"Fucking asshole!" he growled, relieved to turn a corner in the driveway which took him out of sight of the house.

He fumed most of the way back to the office, and braced himself for a chewing out when he got there.

But Quatre was waiting on customers as he let himself in the back door, and merely called a cursory greeting.

So, the asshole _hadn't _called to complain?

Duo decided to simply count his blessings, and he set about turning in the delivery receipts and the outgoing mail.

A few minutes later, Quatre came back to log in the accountables. "Wasn't he home?" he asked, looking at the piece of mail for Yuy.

"He was. He refused it," Duo said curtly. "And I had to fuckin' dodge a goddamned wolfhound to even attempt it, by the way! I'm not going back up that driveway, Quat. Ever."

Quatre looked concerned. "Did the dog go after you?"

"Um. Not exactly," Duo admitted, thinking that the whiskery face would've been kind of cute, if it wasn't on a dog the size of a pony. "But it was loose in the yard."

"Then why'd you get out?"

"I didn't see it until I was already up on the porch. And it was between me an' the Jeep."

"But it let you get past?"

"I made Yuy call it inside when he came to the door. And he's as big an asshole as ever, by the way. Wouldn't accept the piece of mail, and then gave me a hard time about the dog. I told him I'm not going into his yard if he's got loose dogs."

Quatre nodded. "That's fine," he agreed. "Next time wait in the car and just beep the horn. If he doesn't come out—minus the dog—you can at least say you tried."

Duo rolled his eyes. "I have to drive all the way in?"

"You know you do. Unless you see the dog out there. Then you can leave. I won't subject you to potential dog bites."

"Gee, thanks," Duo muttered.

Quatre picked up the letter, eyeing it thoughtfully. "I wonder why he refused this," he mused.

"I asked," Duo admitted, turning and putting his trays into the designated stack. "But he told me it was none of my business."

A faint smile twitched at the corners of Quatre's mouth. "Technically, it's not."

"Yeah, well, normally people don't refuse registered mail. It's usually something they want, or something valuable."

Quatre hummed agreement, and then took the letter to mark as refused and send back, while Duo finished filling out his time sheet and went to wash up.

When the carrier came out of the bathroom, Quatre was back up at his desk, working on time cards.

"Hey, Quat," Duo said, pausing at the back door. "I'm gonna stop at the grocery store on my way home, an' get something good for supper. What kinda veggies you want?"

"Whose night is it to cook?"

"Mine. And I have a hankering for steak on the grill, mashed potatoes, and maybe something wholesome and green on the side."

"Green beans then?"

"Sounds good. Anything else?"

"Dessert?"

"God, we sound like an old married couple," Duo lamented, shaking his head.

"Perish the thought," replied his boss with a shiver.

Duo gave a mock pout. "Am I that bad a catch?"

"Hell, no. You make more than I do," Quatre reminded him. "And you're a better cook."

"So you only love me for my money and cooking!"

"Well, the bunny jammies are a serious turn-off."

Duo couldn't help the laugh that slipped out. "Fine. Just for insulting my sleepwear, you get to bring home the dessert. And it better be good!"

Quatre grinned back. "All right. I'll get dessert. And I'll call before I leave here, in case you think of anything else."

Duo gave him a teasing leer. "What else could there be? I'll have the grill heated and the potatoes boiling, and you just worry about getting your sweet self home, okay?"

Quatre chuckled. "Fair enough. See you later, hon," he said sarcastically.

"Whatever you say, sweetcheeks."

Quatre was still grinning as Duo disappeared out the door.


	9. The Morning Mist

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing, bigotry, some OOC

Pairings: 1X2 eventually, 3X4 also eventually

SMOKY HILLS

"_It's rather amusing, watching the young children at play. Already our son Jacob seems to have his eye on the prettiest girl in school, young Annabelle. She's a blonde-haired, blue-eyed little angel, with all the boys quite wrapped around her finger. How sad that she's an orphan, both parents having died in an outbreak of typhoid fever. She's a ward of the church, and I suspect the Reverend Mother plans to groom her for the convent. I imagine a trail of broken hearts will lie in her wake, should that happen…"_

—_excerpt from the private journal of Ephraim Barton_

Chapter Nine: The Morning Mist

Heero was awake before sunrise, as usual, and didn't even bother trying to doze back off. Instead, he rolled out of bed and padded silently down the hall to the bathroom, pausing at Trowa's door to peek in on his sleeping friend.

The auburn hair stuck out from under a thick quilt, and a soft snoring reassured Heero his patient was resting comfortably.

He didn't bother leaving a note—Trowa would know he'd gone running when he realized the dogs were missing—assuming he even woke up before they got back.

"Hey boys," he greeted the two dogs, who were curled up on the hearth rug, side by side. "Wanna go out?"

Thor was up at once, yawning and stretching, while Balder thumped his tail on the floor, waiting for Heero to pause and scratch his scruffy ears.

"C'mon lazy bones. Let's go. You can have breakfast when we get back."

Heero grabbed a windbreaker off the rack he'd installed by the back door, and whistled for the dogs, hearing the click of their nails on wood just before they bounded past him and out the door.

"Stick with me!" he cautioned, heading down the footpath behind them.

While he hadn't kept up with his habit of running every morning since they'd arrived at the farm, he still tried to keep up some sort of routine. He hoped that once most of the major work was done, he could increase his daily workout back to his former regimen.

The morning air was chilly since the abnormal hot spell had ended, and it was a welcomed "slap in the face" that made Heero eager to get moving and warm up. So after a cursory stretch, he set out at a steady jog along a game trail he and the dogs had discovered the first week there.

While he ran, he had time to let his thoughts wander and his eyes roam over the landscape around him.

The forest was at a rather unlovely stage, the early spring buds and leaves just beginning to fill out into the more lush growth of summer. But it smelled of pine and cedar, and the early morning mist gave it a softer, more ethereal look.

That was nothing compared to the meadows that lay just on the other side of the woods around the farmhouse.

When Heero burst from the trees onto the grassy path, a wide field lay before him, knee deep with grass and early wildflowers. It might once have been a hay field; in fact, it almost had to have been, or the forest would have reclaimed it long since. Trowa's ancestors most likely harvested it to feed their livestock over the long winters.

The mist had risen, as the early rays of the sun began to peek through, and as Heero and the two dogs ran across, he could look up and see the hills ahead swathed in a mysterious shroud of fog.

"Beautiful," he breathed aloud, between steady inhalations and exhalations.

Taken aback by his uncharacteristically visceral reaction to the landscape, Heero turned towards a trail that ran upwards, deeper into the forest. He hadn't yet explored that particular path on his daily walks with the dogs, and he was curious to see where it led.

To his surprise, it wound its way up to a ridge and then along it until he found himself slowing to a walk, the better to enjoy the spectacular view.

His trail ran parallel to the reservoir, and high enough above the treetops that it gave an unobstructed view of the lake, and the sunrise over the hills on the opposite side. It was really quite breathtaking.

Heero stopped and let his gaze sweep the landscape and take it all in, savoring the solitude and peace for a long, tranquil moment.

Then Thor barked and bolted into the woods, Balder hot on his heels.

"Hey, get back here!" Heero yelled, his meditative mood shot to hell, as he sprinted after the dogs, hoping to catch up before they got too far ahead. "Balder! Thor! Come!"

He was at a distinct disadvantage, pursuing the long-legged hounds through thick underbrush and gullies. They hadn't stuck to the trail, but had dashed headlong into a thicket, probably on the heels of a hapless rabbit, or startled deer.

"Fuck!" Heero snarled, slapping tree branches aside and increasing his pace. "Thor! Come back here, dammit!"

Even as he yelled and pursued the wayward dogs, he knew it was futile. Thor was willful at the best of times, and Balder tended to follow his lead, being the younger of the two. Thus, Heero counted himself lucky when he stumbled upon the pair nosing around a clearing.

"Bad dogs!" he scolded, walking up and quickly taking hold of their collars. "You have got to _stop _taking off like this." He was about to start hauling them unceremoniously back home, and was thinking of fashioning a leash out of his windbreaker, when he realized what they were examining.

Someone had made a campfire in that clearing—not too long ago, from the looks of it.

Releasing the dogs, Heero went and knelt beside it, running a hand over the rocks that formed a circle around the ashes and debris. "Hm." He noticed that the ashes had been beaten down by rain, which made the site at least three weeks old; it hadn't rained substantially since he and Trowa had arrived. He'd been grateful for that, when he made the repairs to the barn roof.

Among the ashes, Heero also found remnants of cigarettes and joints. So, some local kids had come out there to get high. And when he walked around the clearing, he also found a few beer cans and wrappers from snacks, as well as the obligatory condom wrappers.

"Fucking kids!" he sighed kicking at a stump.

The last thing he and Trowa needed was a bunch of local kids snooping around the property. The plans his partner was already drawing up called for privacy above all. Clearly the old, faded "no trespassing" signs scattered liberally over the acreage belonging to the Barton farm, weren't sufficient.

Making a mental note to add signs to their next shopping list, Heero gave up his examination of the area, and whistled for the dogs to follow him.

Then he realized Thor had ghosted away into the trees while his attention was diverted.

"Fucking shit!" he growled.

Balder looked up at him, his expression so innocent it practically screamed for a halo to be gleaming over his head.

"You little creep," Heero muttered, unable to keep from grinning at the shaggy-faced clown. He ran a hand over Balder's head. "C'mon. Let's go round up your bad, bad brother."

He had no luck in that department, and ended up back at the house by mid-morning, hoping to find the dog there.

"Hey, Trowa!" he called as he flung open the back door and let Balder trot in ahead of him. "Has Thor made it back here yet?"

"Haven't seen him!" came a reply from the kitchen.

He stalked in to find Trowa eating a bowl of oatmeal and drinking coffee. "That damned hound took off again," he growled, heading for the coffee pot.

"He'll come home," Trowa said reassuringly. "He's just testing his boundaries a bit. First time he's ever had a couple of hundred acres to play in—he wants to see it all."

"The only part he's going to see once I get a fence built is a fifty by fifty section of the back yard!"

"We could start checking the pasture fence. I know it's only split-rail, and a lot of the posts are rotted; but maybe we can tack livestock wire on the inside so it'll hold him."

Heero shook his head. "He weighs too much. All he'd have to do is jump up on it, and he'd knock over a whole section. What he really needs is chain link fencing—_tall _chain link fencing."

"A little training wouldn't hurt, either," Trowa pointed out. "If I was back on my feet, I could do some obedience work with him. But since I'm not, maybe you could find classes somewhere local."

Heero grimaced. "Barton, the last thing I want to do is parade Thor in front of a bunch of strangers, while I fumble at teaching him to come when he's called."

"Anti-social?"

"It comes with the territory," Heero quipped, his humor gradually returning. "The girl at the gas station assured me everyone who's lived here has been reclusive and unfriendly."

Trowa gave an abortive snort. "Well, ya got her and the mailman convinced. Now there's just a few thousand other residents to persuade."

"Not a problem. We're posting new 'no trespassing' signs next week." Heero plunked down in the seat opposite Trowa. "I found a place out in the woods where some kids must've been partying…campfire, beer, pot and condoms."

"Lovely."

"So, I'm going to pick up some new signs to post, and make sure there's one every hundred feet along the perimeter of the property."

"Well, it's hardly necessary along the road," Trowa pointed out. "But maybe in the woods where the boundaries aren't as clear…"

"Everywhere," Heero insisted. "Look, considering what's out in that barn, we don't need anyone snooping around—anywhere."

"Don't you think going overboard on 'posting' the place will make it a bit obvious we've got something to hide?" Trowa leaned back in his chair, stretching his bandaged leg out in front of him. "I mean, when I was a kid, a 'no trespassing' sign was like an invitation."

"Really? I always took it to mean I was to stay out and mind my own business."

"Goody two-shoes."

"Vandal."

Trowa laughed, gesturing towards the stove. "There's oatmeal left in the pan, Heero. And I browned some sausage to go with it. Have breakfast and you won't be so cranky."

"Yes, I will," Heero predicted. "Until I find Thor, I promise to be downright irritable."

"He'll come home in his own time," Trowa assured him. "Wagging his tail behind him."

Heero narrowed his eyes. "You wouldn't be comparing me to Little Bo Peep, would you?"

"Hey, at least I passed up the Goldilocks reference," teased Trowa. "Have some porridge, why don't you?"

"I'm not sure I want to, now."

Trowa laughed aloud at the petulant tone. "God, you are so _easy_. Just eat, would you? You know you're gonna spend most of the day looking for Thor, because you won't be able to stop worrying until he's found. So you'll need sustenance."

Heero got up and went to the stove, stirring the thick oatmeal and taking an experimental sniff. "You put in cinnamon?"

"A touch."

"Well, maybe I could choke down a little bit," came the smirking reply.

"I thought that'd get you."

Heero filled a bowl with oatmeal and helped himself to a few of the sausages, taking the meal to the table to enjoy.

"Hey, I've been going through the junk mail," Trowa spoke up, gesturing to the stack on the corner of the table. "You know you've got about four letters from Relena."

Heero slammed down his spoon so hard the table shook. "I know!" he blurted. "I had to refuse a registered one yesterday."

"Seriously?" Trowa rolled his eyes. "She's really determined to find you, isn't she?"

"I meant to write 'refused' on the ones that came in the regular mail and send them back," Heero sighed. "I'll have to take care of that soon." He rubbed his forehead, looking pained.

Trowa gave a half-hearted smile. "Well at least they're all just addressed to you by name and town. She hasn't got the street address."

"No, or she'd probably show up at the door," Heero groaned. "Dammit, Trowa, when I accepted her invitation to that charity ball, it was just so I could get a closer look at my ex. I never intended to lead her on—at least, not to this degree."

"It's not your fault. Not really. I was there when you explained to her that you had no desire to continue any kind of relationship, social _or _romantic. Just 'cause she can't take a hint—."

"She wouldn't take it if I shouted it over a bullhorn," Heero sighed. "It was one fucking date, Trowa. One!"

"Well, and all that flirting beforehand," Trowa threw out, not wanting Heero to forget how much of the predicament was of his own making.

"Thanks for pointing that out," muttered his friend, picking up his spoon and digging into his oatmeal.

"Just making sure you learned your lesson."

"Yes, I did, quite thoroughly."

"And that is—?"

"Never lead on a girl as single-mindedly determined as Relena Darlian."

"Amen to that," chuckled Trowa.


	10. Good Samaritan

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, some OOC

Pairings: 1X2 eventually, 3X4 also eventually

SMOKY HILLS

"_My dearest Eliza is gone. When she took ill just a few weeks ago, we thought it was a simple fever—but no treatment seemed to help. She wasted away before my very eyes. And I find myself with a young boy to raise, and no clue about how to do it. Jacob has been very stoic about it. He was always a serious-minded boy, but now he seems almost stern. I wish I could see him smile again…"_

—_excerpt from the private journal of Ephraim Barton_

Chapter Ten: Good Samaritan

It was the day after the refusal of the registered letter at the Barton place, and yet Duo hadn't been able to drag his thoughts away from the incident. He'd all but driven Quatre to distraction, harping on the topic and wondering what might have been in the mysterious letter.

His boss had finally, forcibly, reminded him that the contents of the mail were none of their business, per postal regulations, and said that furthermore, if he didn't drop the subject, he'd send him home and call in his substitute.

Duo gave up talking about it at that point, grudgingly. But he didn't stop thinking. He'd seen several letters from that same person come through over the past couple of weeks, on fancy stationery from some law office in Sanc.

His imagination wanted to paint an intriguing scenario, where Yuy was some kind of caretaker for yet another crazy Barton descendant. Or maybe he was trying to hide him from someone. After all, no one but Hilde had actually gotten a glimpse of the elusive Mister Barton, and then only in through a car window. For all anyone knew, Yuy could've killed the man since then, hidden the body, and taken over the estate.

"Stop thinking!" Quatre called from the front of the office, apparently still able, through intuition or just plain magic, to hear the wheels turning in Duo's head.

"That's the opposite of what you usually tell me!" Duo called back, trying a bit harder to forego his speculations and just do his job.

By the end of the day though, he was feeling a bit overwhelmed by it all. Yet another drive up around the reservoir had him remembering camping in the woods, and just hanging out with friends, and he found himself craving the peace and solitude of the forest.

So after he finished up for the day, he told Quatre he wouldn't be home for dinner and slipped out the back door before his friend could press him for more information. It certainly wasn't the first time Duo had gone for a walk or a drive to clear his head, and for sure it wouldn't be the last.

He started out by going to Howie's to gas up the Jeep and get something to eat.

"Duo!" Hilde chirped brightly when he walked in. "How's it hangin'?'

He shook his head, and smirked. "You know better than to ask things like that, girlie."

"Yeah, I know. It's the ultimate 'straight' line, isn't it?" She replied. "So how 'bout I just ask what's up?"

"The sun," he joked. Then, more seriously, "Same shit, different day, Hilde. You know nothing ever changes in this town."

"Hope springs eternal," she quipped. "Hey, we got in more of that beef jerky you like. Wanna stock up?"

"Sure—throw a couple on the counter for me," he replied, digging through the cooler for a six-pack of soda. "And can you make me a roast beef sandwich, mustard, no mayo, and one or two leaves of lettuce so I can tell Quat I ate a healthy dinner?"

"This is your dinner?" came a faintly disapproving query.

"It's a picnic," he clarified. "I'm gonna go for a hike—stretch my legs a bit."

"Ah."

When Duo carried the soda up to the counter, he realized Hilde had placed a small carton of milk, an apple, and a packet of chocolate chip cookies alongside his jerky. "What's all this?"

"A balanced meal. Fruit, milk, and dessert." She grinned as she sliced up the beef for the sandwich. "This way you can tell Mother Quat that you included the four food groups."

"Since when are chocolate chip cookies a food group—not that I'm complaining—?"

"Fruit, dairy, meat—." She held up the slices of beef to illustrate her point. "And the hard roll is bread. The cookies are a small indulgence—and besides, I read something about chocolate making your body release endorphins or something."

"Naw, it's that chocolate contains flavonoids," Duo corrected her. "I looked it up once, just to prove to Quat that the stuff wasn't all bad. Got him eating the occasional candy bar these days, the freakin' health nut."

"You aren't exactly a non-health nut," Hilde pointed out. "How many weekends out of the year do you spend hiking or tromping around in the woods? And I know you eat granola bars—." She wagged a finger at him. "I know all your deep, dark secrets, Duo Maxwell."

"Not _all _of 'em," he mumbled under his breath. "At least, I hope not."

She eyed him suspiciously. "Hm…intriguing. You _know _better than to intrigue me, Duo."

He blinked wide eyes at her, the very picture of innocence. "Would I ever do that?"

"In your dreams!" she said with a grin, wrapping up the sandwich and bringing it over to set beside the rest of the food. She began ringing up the order with practiced ease. "So, that Yuy guy came in again—a week or so ago."

"Uh-huh."

"I asked him about the Barton heir."

"And—?"

"He told me he's as antisocial as the rest of the clan, and that they keep dogs."

Duo had to laugh at that. "I shoulda checked with you before I went up there with a registered letter then. I almost got eaten by one of those dogs."

"Really?"

He shrugged. "Kind of. I didn't see him in the yard until I was up at the house. Biggest freakin' wolfhound you ever saw. And there was another one inside when Yuy came to the door. Monstrous big dogs!"

"Oooo." Hilde gave a little shiver. "Guess I'll keep away from there—even if Yuy _is _sex on legs."

Duo snorted at her description. "More like solid ice." But even as he said it, an image came unbidden into his mind—Yuy answering the door in his sweats and tee shirt, looking a bit tousled and sleepy. He had to admit, the man was gorgeous; but he didn't have to admit that to _Hilde_. "He's got all the personality of a chunk of granite."

"Who needs personality? I just want his body."

Duo rolled his eyes. "Nympho."

"And proud of it," she quipped, bagging his food and pushing it over next to the six-pack. "That'll be twelve-fifty."

Duo narrowed his eyes. "What about the apple and milk and shit?"

"Those are complimentary," she said sweetly. "My feeble attempt to civilize you just a bit—so you aren't living on raw meat and caffeine."

He shook his head. "You'll make someone a great mother some day."

"Oh please! Perish the thought! I'm not ready to chase rug-rats around the house."

"Plus, you'd kind of need a man in order to have any," Duo pointed out. "And I _know _how meager the selection is around here."

"Don't remind me," she said with a grimace. "Otto asked me out—again."

Duo's face darkened. "You better have said 'no.'"

"I did." She gave a half-shrug. "But compared to Trant—."

"Don't go there, Hil!" Duo said sharply. "You can do better than _both _of them. And you know it. You've got your own business here, and you're pretty and smart and funny. You deserve a _good _man—not one of those backwoods thugs!"

"Well there aren't exactly an abundance of 'good men' around."

"Don't settle. I never did."

"_You_ never got over Solo—!" Hilde stopped abruptly, clapping a hand over her mouth, and shaking her head. "I'm sorry," she blurted, when she saw the pained look on Duo's face. "I didn't mean to bring him up—."

"It's okay," Duo sighed, looking more worn out than angry. "You're right, anyway. I guess I kinda keep hoping—y'know?"

She reached across and grabbed his hand. "I do know. And I think you're a great guy for being so loyal. Just—don't miss out on life because you're holding on to the past."

"It's what I'm best at," he said mirthlessly, setting the money on the counter and gathering up his food. "I've gotta get going. Don't wanna miss the sunset over the reservoir."

Her expression turned melancholy. "Hope it's a pretty one."

"Always is."

Duo headed straight for the reservoir, turning off onto a dirt road that led into the woods, and parking about half a mile from the lookout point. He wanted to hike up to the ridge—to breathe in the pine-scented air and listen to the soothing whisper of the wind in the trees.

So he gathered up his bag, and just one of the sodas, and set out on the narrow game trail.

It took him all of fifteen minutes to reach the summit and step out onto the rock ledge that overlooked the sparkling blue water. But when he did, he wasn't quite prepared for the rush of nostalgia that came over him.

There was a big, flat-topped boulder to one side of the ledge, and he remembered millions of visits—lying on the hard granite and watching the clouds drift by overhead, or staying until the sky darkened and the stars become pinpoints of light scattered across it.

And with a sudden sense of purpose, he crossed the clearing and climbed up, setting his bag of food off to one side and lying back to lose himself in the vast, cloud-dotted sky.

"_That one looks like a frog, doncha think?"_

_Solo smirked evilly. "I think it looks more like a penis…a really big one."_

_Duo glanced aside at the boy who was playing with his hair. "It does not!"_

"_Does too."_

_Duo looked back up, squinting and trying to see it. "You're a pervert, Solo. Everything looks like a penis to you."_

"_Maybe it's because you've got me preoccupied—thinking about what I'd like to do—with you."_

_Solo rolled over so he was half on top, and kissed Duo deeply and thoroughly, letting his free hand wander down the boy's bare chest and play with the button on his jeans._

"_Mmm—Solo—," groaned the brunet._

"_Want you—." Solo shifted and his hips ground down, the bulge of his erection pressing against Duo's._

"_But—."_

"_Shhh. You know how much I love you—," he breathed against Duo's mouth, smiling as he felt the other boy's hips arch up against his._

"_Yeah, I know—gonna take me away from here, and we're gonna build a new life—our own life—together."_

"_Forever, kid. Forever."_

Duo woke with a gasp, sitting up sharply and looking around in confusion, until he realized where he was, and that he'd apparently dozed off and missed the sunset altogether. "Fuck!"

He ran a hand across his eyes and yawned, trying to shake the cobwebs of sleep from his brain. "Goddamned dream," he muttered, reaching for his bag of food, and opening the soda so he could take a long drink to soothe his parched throat.

"Must've slept for hours." He looked at the dusky sky and the deepening shadows, knowing it would be dark before he made it back to the car.

"Well, fuck it then," he sighed, pulling out the rest of his meal and starting to eat, keeping an eye on the vast expanse of indigo, and waiting for the stars to come out.

As if on cue, the first faint flicker appeared on the eastern horizon, and out of habit, he made a wish—the same one he'd made whenever a chance arose.

"I wish I may, wish I might—get the hell out of this shithole of a town."

He'd long since given up wishing Solo would come back. Enough time had passed that he knew full well his childhood boyfriend wouldn't return. He'd even given up wishing he'd meet someone else, who'd make him forget Solo ever existed.

All that was left was the desire to save up enough money to move far away from Smoky Hills—to somewhere he could start over fresh—with no past to nip at his heels. In the town where he grew up, too many people had known him too long—and no matter how much he might change and grow, they'd just never see it. He'd always be "the Maxwell kid," who grew up in an orphanage, was gay, and had a temper the size of a mountain, and an imagination to match.

It was fully dark by the time Duo finished eating and mulling over the things he hated about Smoky Hills. But he felt infinitely better as he sat under the broad canopy of sky and picked out the constellations. It really was a beautiful place—and if he had to be stuck in a dead-end town, he was pretty sure he couldn't find one more picturesque.

"Yeah, there's a bright side to everything, eh?" he chided himself. "Time to pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and get on with life, Maxwell."

He followed his own advice, getting up and gathering his wrappers—stuffing them into the bag and rolling it up to carry out with him. One thing no one would ever be able to say about Duo Maxwell was that he was a litter bug.

He found himself smirking about that as he headed down the trail, going a bit slower in the dark, but still able to pick his way along the once-familiar path.

He was almost back to his car, when in an eerie replay of that moment back at the Barton farm the day before, he saw a huge grey shape standing beside it. Blinking a couple of times, wondering if it was actually a wolf this time, and not just a wolfhound, he drew a hand across his eyes, and took a step forward. The animal instantly turned towards him, its long tail waving softly side to side, and it took a limping step before whimpering and laying down right on the spot.

"Oh—," Duo said softly, his wariness disappearing in a flash. "You're hurt!" In a few quick strides he was next to the dog, kneeling and holding out a hand for it to sniff. "Hey there, big guy," he murmured, as the enormous nose pushed at his fingers and a long tongue flicked out to lap at his hand. "Awwww."

He edged over so that he was sitting cross-legged, with the big, shaggy head in his lap as he fondled the dog's ears. "Poor baby. Did your nasty owner bite ya?"

Soulful brown eyes looked up at him, and the animal sighed and relaxed against him, giving a quiet groan of pleasure as he found all those itchy places under the collar.

While he scratched and rubbed, Duo took a moment to slip the leather collar around so he could read the tag. "Thor."

The dog raised its head fractionally, and thumped its tail a couple more times.

"No shit," Duo chuckled. "God of Thunder, are ya? Well, you're sure big enough to be." He looked under the name and saw Heero Yuy and what he presumed was a cell phone number. "Yeah, well—I'd call your mean old man, Thor. But cell phones don't work worth shit out here. How 'bout I get you in the Jeep and give you a ride home, huh?"

He eased out from under the dog, and tugged gently on the collar to coax it to stand, which it did. And when he opened the car door, a bit concerned that he'd have to try to lift the beast in, it hobbled over and fumbled its way into the back seat on its own.

"There's a good boy!" Duo purred, digging under the front seat for the wool blanket he kept for picnics and emergencies. He tucked it around the dog, who'd lain across the seat as if he'd been in the car a million times before. Then he also dug out his box of biscuits and pulled a couple out. "Hungry, ya big monster?" he asked playfully, waggling a dog treat in front of its face.

Thor gave an experimental sniff, and then grabbed the biscuit and swallowed it more or less whole.

"Whoa—watch it there!" Duo cautioned. "I'd like to _keep _all my fingers." He closed the next treat inside his hand and held it under the big jaws. "Gently," he urged, making the dog nudge and poke at his hand to slowly reveal the biscuit, and pick it up with much more restraint. "There's a good boy." He gave him one more, but then since he wasn't sure if the dog might get carsick, he put the rest away and climbed into the driver's seat. "Let's get you home, Thor-baby."

It was only a few minutes' drive to the Barton farm, though Duo winced a little at pulling into the place in the pitch dark.

"Tell you what, oh God o' Thunder. If anything lets out a blood-curdling shriek, will you promise to maul it for me?" he joked weakly.

When he pulled up in the drive and shut off the Jeep, he was relieved to see the porch light on. At least, he was until Heero Yuy burst out of the house, and headed down the steps looking even more upset than he had at the post office.

Duo quickly threw open his door and got out. "Lookin' for your dog, Mister Yuy?"

The man stopped in his tracks, the expression on his face almost making Duo laugh, because it went through so many emotions so quickly. "You—? You've got Thor?"

Duo nodded, and Heero rushed past him, pulling open the back door and reaching for the big dog, who had already shifted around to get out.

"Careful!" Duo yelped. "He's hurt!"

Heero stopped, turning a questioning look to the mailman, and then frowning. "You _hit _him—?"

"No! Shit, man—stop jumping to conclusions!" Duo snapped. "Let me talk here."

Heero visibly composed himself, though even Duo could see what an effort it was.

"I was up at the reservoir, and when I got back to the Jeep, Thor here was standing there looking all sad and lost. An' I noticed he was limping on his left front leg, when he came towards me. So, I coaxed him into the car, and here he is. I don't know how he got hurt, or how bad it is; I just figured getting him back to you as fast as I could was the best thing to do."

Heero was already on his knees, gently examining the dog's leg and letting out a soft hiss of concern when Thor flinched and pulled back. "Shh," he soothed. "Easy." He felt around some more, and then turned over the paw and looked at the underside. "Ah—I think he sliced the pad on rocks or something," he guessed, looking up into the shaggy face, and scratching Thor's ears. "Big baby," he chided in a voice so filled with tenderness that it made Duo shiver.

"Uhm—y'need a hand getting him inside?" Duo asked.

Heero shook his head, scooping up the massive dog in his arms and lifting him out of the car almost effortlessly. "I've got him." He headed around the front of the Jeep, leaving Duo wondering whether to follow or just leave.

But then, halfway up the walk, Heero paused and glanced back over his shoulder, a soft look in his eyes, and a downright warm smile on his lips. "Thank you for bringing him home."

Duo smiled back, glad it was dark enough to hide the blush that those blue eyes brought to his face. "No problem," he shrugged. "I was in the neighborhood anyway."

With a quick nod, the Japanese man turned away again, and hurried up the steps with his armful, managing the door without any trouble at all, and then disappearing inside.

"And a nice night to you, too," Duo sighed, waiting for his pulse to settle back to a normal speed, before getting back into the Jeep and starting it up.

God, Yuy was gorgeous when he smiled! Duo kind of wished they hadn't gotten off to such a rocky start, and maybe he'd have seen that beautiful smile sooner. But then, better late than never...

He was pulling around the horseshoe-shaped drive, when his lights flashed briefly in the half-open door of the barn, and reflected in a pair of eerie, green-glowing eyes. He was past before he thought to hit the brakes, and there was no way in Hell Duo was going to stop and back up for a closer look; especially when he heard a shriek from somewhere behind him, just like the one he'd heard out by the mailbox.

On the contrary, he made record time down that driveway and out into the street, not slowing down to legal speeds until he was almost halfway back to town.

When Duo pulled into the driveway, he sat for a moment, trying to sort out reality from fantasy. It had seemed so very "normal" for a moment up at the Barton farm, when he'd brought the dog home, and Yuy had carried him inside. But then, he hadn't imagined those glowing eyes in the barn. He _knew _he'd seen them, and that they were real and not just figments of his too-vivid imagination. Even looking at it objectively, he concluded he hadn't conjured up the sight. Why would he? For once, he hadn't been totally spooked and creeped-out by being at the farm. It was the last time he'd have expected to see or hear something so totally out of the norm.

"I'm not crazy," he muttered. "There's _something _in that barn."

Something with luminous green eyes.

Duo shivered. Hadn't Hilde mentioned the guy in the car with Yuy having green eyes?

"Jesus," Duo mumbled, shaking his head. "Y'r losing it, Maxwell. The Barton guy wouldn't have been out in the barn, crouched to what must have been about waist level, for the headlights to flash across those eyes. "Unless he's a psycho nut case and Yuy has him chained out there…"

Duo smacked the palm of his hand against the side of his head. "Get a grip!" he told himself. "Seriously. I gotta stop thinking. Only gets me into trouble anyway."

He slipped out of the Jeep and closed the door quietly, hoping to not disturb Quatre at that hour. But of course, his ever-vigilant roommate was watching the news, sipping tea in the living room when he walked in.

"You were out late," Quatre piped up, raking him with a searching gaze.

Duo glared back. "I took a drive to clear my head," he said flatly.

"Ah." Quatre glanced back at the television. "Where'd you go?"

Right—he should've known the interrogation was far from over. "Up around the reservoir."

A flicker of a sympathetic wince crossed Quatre's face. "Duo—."

"Look, Quat. All I did was go on up to the lookout and watch the stars come out," Duo told him, scowling and walking into the kitchen to get something to drink. "An' it was nice!" he called to his boss, while rummaging in the fridge.

"That's good," came a voice right behind him, and Duo jumped and spun around with his soda in hand, nearly dropping the bottle.

"Sheesh! Don't sneak up like that!"

Quatre smiled. "I just wanted to make sure you didn't snag the last beer."

"You have an unhealthy obsession with my drinking habits, Winner."

"More like a _healthy _one. And I like to make sure you take proper care of yourself, Duo Maxwell." Quatre laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. "I worry."

"Shouldn't," Duo said with a shrug. "I got along fine for a lotta years before you came here, y'know."

"Yes, your arrest record makes that very clear," came a snide response.

"Only reason you know about that is 'cause I told you. It was juvenile shit, an' you know it."

"Still—Otto and Trant and your feud with them haven't gone away. When you go off without telling me, I wonder if you've had another run-in and come out on the losing end."

Duo rolled his eyes. "Mother hen, like I keep saying!" He sat at the table and Quatre sat opposite him, pushing the wrapped-up plate of cookies over. "If you must know, I went up to the lookout just to reminisce a bit," Duo clarified. "An' I'd have been back just after dark, except that I found Yuy's dog wandering around up there, hurt."

"Oh!" Quatre's face filled with concern. "How badly?"

"Not very. Yuy thought there might be a cut on the paw."

"Yuy?"

"I drove the dog home," Duo clarified. "Figured it was the neighborly thing to do, y'know?"

"It was," Quatre replied with a knowing smile. "And you got on the hunk's good side, didn't you?"

Duo snorted wryly. "That guy hasn't got a good side. Just a whole bunch of bad ones."

"He wasn't grateful you brought his dog home?"

"Well, yeah," Duo conceded. "He said 'thanks,' anyway, as he was carryin' the dog up the walkway to the house. I wasn't there very long, Quat. Just long enough for him to come boiling out of the house and get the dog. Looked like he'd been pretty worried about him, too."

"Aw, so he _has _got a heart."

"Yeah, right. More likely the dog's some kind of valuable show animal or something and he's worried about his investment. Like that 'important mail' that got a little smudge of dirt. Asshole." Duo chewed on a cookie and washed it down with soda. "I'm goin' to bed, Quat. You should too. Gotta get up early for work."

"I was waiting up for you," Quatre pointed out.

"In the future—don't," Duo suggested, standing and tossing his empty container into the recycling bucket in the corner. He headed out before his roommate could continue the pointless conversation.

Taking the stairs two at a time, Duo made his way up to his room and only took a moment to shed his shoes, jeans and tee shirt before falling face down into bed.


	11. Exploring

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, some OOC

Pairings: 1X2 eventually, 3X4 also eventually

SMOKY HILLS

"_Young Jacob took first place at the Fair with his prize steer. A prouder young man never walked the Earth. He talks of studying animal husbandry—perhaps veterinary medicine. Imagine that—a potential doctor in our family! I wish Eliza could have been here to see this…"_

—_excerpt from the private journal of Ephraim Barton_

Chapter Eleven: Exploring

Trowa looked up from the phone book, where he'd been preparing to dial the local police and report the missing dog. "Oh! He came home!" he exclaimed as Heero carried the big dog into the kitchen.

"Sort of," Heero said wryly, setting Thor down carefully. "Stay!" he ordered, heading for the first aid kit in the bathroom.

Thor hung his head, looking the part of a scolded child. But he stayed put.

"What's up?" Trowa asked.

"He hurt his paw, or leg or something," Heero told him, bringing the supplies back into the kitchen, and going to the sink to run a bowl of warm water for cleaning the cut he'd seen. "Could you take a look at the left front leg?"

"Sure." Trowa shifted his chair closer, since he couldn't very well kneel next to the injured animal. "C'mon, Thor. Gimme your paw."

The dog obligingly held up his left leg, keeping his weight on the right.

Trowa went inch by inch, feeling the bones and joints, and manipulating them carefully to see if it caused any pain.

"I believe there's a cut on his pad," Heero pointed out.

"Yes, not too deep, but we'll need to clean and wrap it." Trowa felt the joint above it again. "He might've sprained the pastern a bit. You might want to take him to the vet for an x-ray in the morning, and see if they think the cut could use a stitch or two."

"I will," Heero said without hesitation, a hand resting gently on the big head, while his fingers fondled a scruffy ear. "Troublesome beast," he said affectionately.

"Where'd you find him?" Trowa asked, beginning to rinse the wound.

"The mailman brought him home."

"Seriously?" Trowa looked up in surprise. "Isn't it a little late for him to be delivering mail?"

"He said he was up at the reservoir, and found the dog there. Since he knew where he lived, he brought him home."

"How nice of him," Trowa said warmly.

"Yes, it was." Heero looked away with a pensive expression on his face.

"Bet you feel badly for complaining about him that time, don't you?"

"Certainly not!" came a hasty reply. "The mail got damaged that day. I had every right to complain about it."

"Plus, you were tired and cranky and looking for a scapegoat."

Heero opened his mouth to protest, and then just shrugged. "That's beside the point. He was wrong and he knew it, or he'd never have apologized."

"Jesus, Yuy—seriously? You could make Mother Theresa feel like she had something to apologize for with that glare of yours!"

"Not if she didn't have a guilty conscience to start with."

Trowa chuckled at that, and they both relaxed as he began winding gauze around Thor's injured paw. When he finished, he smiled up at Heero and gave the big wolfhound a pat on the head. "I suggest you feed this monster his missed supper and throw a couple of aspirin in the mix to help with his 'owies.'"

"I intend to. And thank you for the emergency vet care."

"At least I can feel useful for _something_."

"Barton—."

"I know! I know you don't think I'm useless," Trowa said, waving aside his friend's attempt to contradict him. "Just kidding."

"I wish you wouldn't kid about that. I don't want you pushing yourself too soon." Heero gestured to the crutches Trowa was insisting on using instead of the wheelchair.

"I'm not. I called the doctor yesterday, and he said it'd be fine to increase the use of the leg, so long as I don't overdo it. He's sending out some physical therapy recommendations and a referral to an outpatient facility about an hour from here, so I can go for weekly progress checks." He looked up from under his bangs. "If you don't mind driving me—."

Heero just snorted and smacked the back of Trowa's head on his way past, as he went to get Thor's supper. "You know I don't."

"Love you, too," Trowa chuckled, gathering up the first aid supplies to stow back in the kit.

After the stressful day and hectic finale, both men were tired, and went to bed shortly after settling the dog in for the night.

* * *

Of course, first thing in the morning, Heero was up well before Trowa, and on the phone consulting with the nearest veterinary clinic about Thor's injured leg. He'd forgone his morning run to tend to his patient, and decided that a thorough check-up was in order.

"No, we _haven't _seen you before," he said a bit impatiently. "We've just moved to the area. But if you check with the Sanc Veterinary Hospital, they can fax over Thor's records before I bring him in. I'll have hard copies with me as well."

Trowa hobbled past on his crutches, pausing to scratch Thor's ears and murmur reassurances to the big dog, and then heading for the coffee pot.

"Of _course_ he's up to date on his shots. I'm a responsible dog owner." He listened for a moment, rolling his eyes expressively at Trowa. "We were out for our morning run yesterday and he got away from me. He's got a cut on his pad and I'd like to have an x-ray to be sure there's no bone injury."

Trowa poured his coffee and leaned against the counter to sip it.

"He's an Irish Wolfhound. Yes, they _are _big dogs. That's why I'd like his leg checked out for damage; considering his body weight, I don't want him using it if it's compromised."

Trowa looked at Thor. "You're a troublesome beast," he said with a smirk. "See what you put your 'daddy' through?"

"Eleven would be fine. Yes, that's Yuy—Heero Yuy. And the dog's name is Thor." He scowled in the big dog's direction. "He's almost four. Yes, neutered. No allergies that I'm aware of." He nodded and jotted down some directions. "Thank you very much. I'll be on my way shortly."

Trowa raised an eyebrow as Heero hung up the phone. "Shortly? It's only eight-thirty."

"Yes, and the place is a good two-hour drive from here."

"There's no local veterinarian?"

Heero gave him a dark look. "I'm not trusting some backwoods horse doctor to care for Thor."

"Jesus, Yuy—a vet's a vet. They all attend the same kind of school and receive the same training."

"Yes, but this place is affiliated with Tufts University Vet School. It's got state of the art facilities, an experienced staff, and access to the most up-to-date research in the field." He leaned to run a hand over Thor's broad forehead. "Since our old vet is six hours away, I'm not settling for less than the best I can find close by," he said firmly.

Trowa coughed to hide a smile. "Well, it's your dime," he noted. "What am I supposed to do while you drive across half the state to take your dog to the vet?"

"You should relax today. Take it easy," Heero suggested. "Obviously you won't be able to do any heavy lifting. So concentrate on your exercises the surgeons recommended." He gathered up a folder containing his copies of Thor's vaccination records, but paused in the act of clipping the leash on the big dog. "Unless—you want to come along?"

Trowa was on the verge of saying "yes," that he wanted to get out of the house for a change of scenery, after weeks of being stuck there. But he glanced down at the loose sweats he was wearing, with one leg cut short to allow for his wrapped and braced knee to be tended, and knew damned well it would take awhile for him to get dressed to go anywhere.

His gaze darted to the clock on the wall. "Naw, Yuy. Y'better get going. I haven't even had breakfast yet, and I don't really fancy two hours of sitting in your car smelling wet wolfhound."

"He's not wet—just damp. I decided to clean the mud off his legs and belly this morning to check for any other cuts."

Trowa smirked nastily. "He's close enough to wet. In a stuffy car, he'll smell." He waved his friend aside. "Go on then. Get out of here so I can enjoy my breakfast."

"Careful, or Thor and I won't bring you back a doggie bag from wherever we stop for lunch," Heero joked.

"Don't you mean a 'person' bag?"

"Semantics," Heero said breezily, giving Trowa a pat on the shoulder as he passed on the way out the door, Thor limping carefully along beside him.

"Drive carefully," Trowa cautioned. "And don't pick up any strays."

"This from the man with the myna from Hell."

"Wing is a good bird."

"He's a vandal. No wonder the last owner abandoned him."

"Hey—you're the one with two dogs and a parrot who thinks he's Houdini."

"Have a nice day, Trowa," Heero called back, shutting the door firmly behind himself.

Trowa grinned and shook his head, seeing that his roommate had cooked breakfast for him, and left it covered up and waiting. "Jeeze, Nurse Yuy," he muttered, lifting the lid to see his eggs and sausage still steaming. "I take it back—Chef Yuy. Yum!"

After his solitary breakfast, Trowa spent half an hour cleaning up the kitchen, and then another half hour doing his stretching and bending exercises for his knee. But by ten o'clock, he'd run out of mundane chores to fill his time.

He hobbled from room to room, looking for something he could work on that wouldn't require the use of his legs. But painting involved ladders, or at the very least a stepstool, and cleaning required two free hands. Since he had to have at least one crutch in use at all times, he couldn't realistically expect to do much in the way of cleanup.

"Well—there's always exploring—," he murmured, eyeing the stairs speculatively.

He'd only been upstairs once, when he and Heero had first arrived. He'd insisted on seeing the upstairs, and Heero had embarrassed the shit out of him by carrying him to the top, and then going back down and hauling the wheelchair up. Since then he hadn't dared ask.

But now that he was on crutches, he saw no reason he couldn't take the steps one at a time, using his good leg.

Granted, Heero would probably have a list of reasons a mile long—but then, he wasn't around right then, was he?

Before he could talk himself out of it, Trowa carefully navigated his way to the foot of the stairs and put his good leg up on the first step, using it to lift himself and the crutches up and brace for the next one.

What seemed like an eternity later, he found himself nearing the top—sweating like a pig, and with his armpits aching from the effort he'd expended—but almost there. And with a couple more hops and hauls, he made it.

He promptly sat down right where he was and leaned his back against the wall to catch his breath.

"Well that was way more effort than I expected," he sighed, dragging a sleeve across his sweaty forehead.

It was several minutes before he felt up to the task of exploring. But when he did, he was a bit dismayed to see how much work remained to be done.

While Heero and Cathy's helpers had hauled out the bulkiest of items, including mouse-riddled mattresses and broken furniture, there remained a tremendous amount of cleaning up to do. Floors needed stripping and refinishing, windows could use a good washing, and wallpaper and painting was an absolute _must_.

"Good thing we've got a place to sleep downstairs," Trowa mused. "It could take months to get these rooms livable."

But even as he winced at the amount of toil ahead of them, he took the opportunity to examine the hearths in each room, and the old stone of the fireplaces that had once heated the entire house.

He imagined the original occupants of the house, building up a hot blaze in each room at night, and savoring the cozy warmth while watching snow fall outside the windows. It must have been a very satisfying feeling—to know they'd thwarted the elements. He'd read as much in the journal of Ephraim Barton that Heero had brought down from the attic.

When his thoughts turned to the journal, of course Trowa headed straight for the attic, eager to locate the other volumes his roommate had mentioned. But when he looked up the narrow staircase into the dark room above, he hesitated.

If he tried to make it up those stairs and failed, Heero would kill him. Not literally, of course. But he had a feeling if he in any way injured himself, his obsessive friend would strap him down to the bed and spoon feed him until his knee was a hundred percent healed.

"Fuck." He sat on the bottom step to rest again, and then realized that if he left the crutches at the foot of the stairs and used his arms to pull himself up from one to the next, he could make the top quite easily.

Sure enough, by pushing up with his good leg, and using his arms to hitch himself up so he was seated on the next step, he made his way to the top much easier than when he'd come up from the first floor to the second.

When he got up into the dusty attic, though, he wished he'd thought to bring a flashlight. It was almost pitch dark up there, only lit by small windows at either end, and the sun was at the wrong angle to shed much illumination on the piles of trunks and furniture.

"Jesus, they were some pack rats," he breathed in awe, running a hand over a dusty suitcase.

And speaking of rats, he heard a rustle and the patter of little feet that made him realize he was far from alone in the derelict space.

He'd just decided to give up on exploring until he and Heero could run some sort of lighting up there, when he spied an open trunk, and edge himself over closer to peek at the contents.

"Score!" he said eagerly, finding the container filled with more leather-bound books like the journal he was reading downstairs.

He pulled one out, squinting in the dark to try to make out the writing, but it was too faded for him to discern without better lighting.

"Fine then. These have gotta come downstairs."

The auburn-haired man looked warily down the steep steps, wondering if he could slide the trunk down and inch himself along after it. But an experimental tug on a handle proved that it weighed too much to drag along easily. And the old leather straps that served as handles would probably break under any serious stress.

"One by one then." Trowa took one notebook and carefully tossed it to the foot of the stairs. But when it landed, the cover flopped open and several pages spilled out across the floor.

"Fuck!" Trowa anxiously made his way back down the steps, forgetting about the trunk in his desire to salvage the volume he'd dropped.

He found the spine had come loose upon impact, and the pages were in danger of falling all over the place. So he carefully tucked them back together, and then stuck the book into his shirt for safekeeping.

"Okay, Barton. Give it up," he chided himself, gathering up his crutches and heading for the first floor again, realizing he was in no shape to continue his exploration.

By the time he got downstairs, he was worn out—feeling the strain in muscles long-unused. He barely made it back to the kitchen, and flopped wearily into a chair to catch his breath.

"I'm _so _out of shape," he sighed.

Balder came ambling into the kitchen to sniff at the dust on Trowa's pant legs, and look quizzically at the man, as if wondering where he'd been.

"You are not the brightest bulb in the pack," Trowa noted wryly, giving the big head a pat.

Then Balder barked and trotted towards the front door, and Trowa heard the beep of a horn.

"Shit! Who's here?" He fumbled for his crutches and hastily made his way to the door, praying that whoever was out there didn't leave their vehicle and start poking around the barn.

Another beep sounded just as he reached the front door and threw it open, and he saw the post office Jeep just starting to pull away. But even as he slumped in the doorway, figuring he'd missed out on a package—probably the one sent by the doctor's office—he saw the vehicle stop, and then a very good-looking young man with a braid down to his thighs got out and headed for the porch.

All he could think was, "The mailman's _hot_."

That and, "Yuy's an ass."


	12. Discoveries

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing, bigotry, some OOC

Pairings: 1X2 eventually, 3X4 also eventually

A/N: Parricide and parrodent TOTALLY came from Kaeru Shisho. All her fault. She suggested it, and I ran with it. ;)

SMOKY HILLS

"_Jacob has grown into a fine young man, despite my fumbling attempts at parenting. He and his good friend Aaron both seem to have their eyes on Annabelle, who has also grown into a near-adult. They vie for her attention like young cocks in the henhouse, strutting and preening to gain the attention of the most sought-after hen…"_

—_excerpt from the private journal of Ephraim Barton_

Chapter Twelve: Discoveries

When Duo realized he had an express mail for the Barton place, he knew he'd have to make a slight detour on his route. He'd never make the noon deadline otherwise.

He didn't even question whether he'd drive up that long driveway and brave the wolfhounds. He knew he would, if only for another glimpse of the grumpy, gorgeous Japanese resident—green-eyed barn occupant notwithstanding.

"Stupid," he chided himself, even as he drove up the winding road around the reservoir.

But then, with a little effort, he convinced himself that he could start a conversation by asking how Thor was this morning. Yeah, that was the ticket! A nice little ice-breaker, saving someone's dog. Yuy would almost _have _to be civil, right?

Well, Duo got a good laugh out of the thought, anyway.

When he pulled up to the house, he glanced around for Thor out of sheer habit. But he wasn't surprised that the big dog was not in sight. His worried owner was probably keeping him inside to make him rest the injured leg.

"Hokay," he joked to himself. "Guess I could probably try for the porch…" He glanced towards the barn, noticing the door was closed, so there'd be no green-eyed creature suddenly leaping out.

But then the image of the glowing green eyes in the shadows of the barn came to mind, and suddenly walking up to that house didn't seem like such a good idea after all. Maybe honking the horn was good enough.

"It's broad fuckin' daylight, Maxwell," he chided himself. "Grow a set and just deliver the damned piece of mail!"

But even as he reached for the door handle, his gaze slid towards that barn, and he hesitated.

"Fuck! Well, fine then. Quat said I could just beep the horn, an' if no one comes, I'm off the hook." He gave a couple of short, firm beeps of the horn, and waited, berating himself for being a coward even as he did so.

After a moment passed, he tooted again, and gave it a few more seconds, before shifting the Jeep into gear. But just as he was about to pull away, he saw the door open, and a man struggling through on crutches.

"Well, shit."

He quickly threw the Jeep back into park and shut it off, so the guy would know he didn't have to hurry. And then Duo jumped out and jogged quickly up the path to the porch.

The man at the top of the steps was none other than the tall, slender green-eyed guy Hilde had described from the gas station, and Duo tried not to gawk, or give the appreciative once-over his eyes really wanted to indulge in. "Mister Barton?" he guessed.

And Green Eyes smiled. "Just Trowa," he said in an almost shy voice.

Duo glanced down at the express mail piece. "This'd be for you then. I just need a signature." He offered the pen and receipt, and Trowa leaned against the post so that he could free up his hands to sign.

"This isn't Thor," Duo noted, gingerly holding out a hand for Balder to sniff.

"Nope. It's Balder. Heero took Thor to the vet to have that leg checked out. And by the way, thanks for bringing him home last night. We were crazy with worry."

"Glad to help," Duo assured him. "I like dogs."

"Seriously? I thought, well, mailmen and dogs didn't mix."

"Totally not true. Gotta make friends with 'em. It's a matter of self-preservation." Duo scratched Balder behind the ears, his gaze sliding over to the thick padding and the brace on Trowa's leg. "What'd you do to your knee?"

"Tore it all to shit," Trowa said wryly, as he signed his name to the delivery receipt. "Took six hours of surgery to repair it properly—an' God knows how much longer until I get back to normal use again."

"Wow. That sucks," Duo said sympathetically, accepting the pen and paper back, and tucking them into a hip pocket. He started to hand over the fat package, and realized the man would have difficulty carrying it and using the crutches. "Um, want me to set this inside for you?"

"Would you?"

The gratitude in Trowa's voice was too earnest to overlook, and Duo shifted uneasily, glancing at the intimidating house. "Sure," he said, trying to sound casual. "Where'd you want it?"

"Kitchen table, probably. That's where I'll read through the five hundred pages of instructions from my doctors, I guess."

Duo looked again at the medical center in the return address block. "Ah. Post-operative shit, hm? Doctors!"

Trowa laughed, and Duo decided it was a very nice laugh indeed. He preceded the man into the house, daring a quick glance at a sparsely-furnished living room, and following Trowa's "straight ahead" instructions to find the sunny kitchen.

"Nice," he said, setting the parcel on the table. "I'd have expected it to be a lot less—cheery."

"Should've seen the day we moved in," grinned Trowa. "Squirrels and mice everywhere. Hell of a welcoming committee."

Duo chuckled in return. "I can imagine. The place was empty for years—." He looked around at the heavy wooden beams in the ceiling and the wide planks of the floor. "It's really old."

"I'm finding that out." Trowa blinked suddenly, as if a thought had occurred to him. "Hey, um—what's your name anyway?"

"Duo," replied the mailman.

"Could I—ask you for a favor, Duo?"

The braided man paused, eyeing the stranger a bit warily, and suddenly recalling all his old fears and suspicions about the farmhouse and its inhabitants. "I, ah, kinda got a schedule to keep—."

"Oh, of course."

Trowa looked so crestfallen that Duo just had to ask. "But if it's something quick—?"

The green-eyed man waved a hand dismissively. "Don't worry about it. It can wait. Seriously—I wasn't thinking. Of course you have a timetable to keep—."

"Yes, but, it's not _that _strict. Just—what's the favor, and I'll tell you if I can?"

Trowa hesitated, but then gestured towards the front hall. "Upstairs there's a trunk I was hoping to bring down. It's not very heavy, but with the crutches—."

"Hey, say no more," Duo said glibly, forgetting for a moment where he was. "I can haul it down for ya."

"Really? I don't want to be a bother—."

"No trouble at all. Show me where it's at."

Trowa led the way to the stairs, and gestured up them. "You go up and turn right, and at the end of the hall, the door to the attic is open. The trunk's right there at the top of the attic steps. I'd about given up on moving it by myself, and then I heard you honk—."

"The attic?" Duo suddenly recalled just whose house this was, and how many generations had passed through and ostensibly died there.

Trowa gave him a sort of funny look. "Yeah."

"Do I—need a flashlight?" Duo asked, feeling a stirring of unease.

But Trowa's reassuring expression settled his nerves back down. Surely someone with such a kind, easy smile couldn't be an axe murderer—right? "Naw. The hall light's right by the door to the attic, so it lights the bottom couple of steps. And the trunk is right there at the top. Just—be careful. The handles are really old leather, and if you use them to lift, they might let go." He shook his head suddenly. "Never mind, Duo. This is a bad idea. I don't want you getting hurt."

"I won't," Duo promised, forgetting his fear of the creepy old house in his eagerness to help Trowa. "I'll just take a run up there, size it up, and if I don't think I can lug it down here safely, I'll leave it alone—okay?"

There was that grateful smile again. "Yeah, thanks."

Duo hesitated at the foot of the stairs for just an instant, and then reminded himself that the good-looking, green-eyed guy was watching, and jogged quickly up before he could chicken out.

The hallway was dimly-lit, but as Trowa had said, there was a light directly in front of the open door to the attic. It provided enough light to calm Duo's fluttering pulse, and he gritted his teeth and kept reminding himself there was no such thing as ghosts.

Climbing the attic steps was a little harder, because it was very, very dark up there, and ascending towards that gloom was more daunting than prancing up a well-lit hallway.

But Duo managed it, his eyes adjusting as he went, so that he could easily make out the nearest object as the trunk Trowa wanted brought down.

He gave a tug to a handle, and hefted one end gingerly, guessing that although it was old, the handle would hold. So he used it to pull the trunk to the top of the steps, and then he eased it down one step at a time until he had it in the hall.

"Whew. Halfway home," he sighed to himself, keeping his gaze on his destination, rather than looking back over his shoulder at whatever figments of his imagination might be following.

Trowa was waiting at the base of the stair, his face lighting up as he saw Duo carting the heavy object. "You got it! Great!" He moved aside as Duo started down. "Watch your step there—."

"I'm good," Duo assured him, his confidence returning in a rush, now that he was nearing the first floor and his smiling host. "Where should I drop this monster?"

"Living room—just inside the door would be fine."

Duo did as he was told, setting the trunk down and turning to face Trowa, dusting his hands off. "Mission accomplished!" he said brightly.

"I can't tell you how much I appreciate—," Trowa began, only to be cut off by an unearthly shriek, which sent Duo stumbling backwards so suddenly he caught the back of his legs on the trunk and tumbled over it, landing flat on his back on the hard wood floor.

"Shit! Are you okay?" gasped Trowa, rushing to his side.

Duo looked up in alarm, not sure whether to be more terrified of the awful noise, or of Trowa's seeming lack of reaction to it. "That wasn't my imagination!" he blurted accusingly.

"No, it was Heero's bird."

The braided man lay there, trying to make sense of what he'd just heard. But all he could conclude was that he was either unconscious, or concussed. "His _what_?"

As if in answer to his question, a large grey bird fluttered into the hallway and settled on Trowa's shoulder. "His bird," repeated the green-eyed man. "Zero's an African Grey Parrot." He smiled apologetically. "Did he scare you?"

Duo pushed himself up into a sitting position. "Scare me? Whatever gave you that idea?" he snapped a bit irritably.

"Maybe the way you jumped six feet in the air before tumbling backwards over a trunk," Trowa quipped. "Or maybe it was your yelp of terror."

"Fuck you," Duo muttered without thinking. Then he looked sharply up, expecting a negative reaction, and instead getting an amused snort.

"Fair enough," Trowa conceded. "Maybe I should've warned you about the rest of the pets. Besides the dogs, we've got a myna bird, and a parrot who loves to scare the bejesus out of folks by letting out the occasional ear-piercing scream."

Duo rested one arm on a knee, as he tried to figure out how badly bruised he was. "Thanks for the warning," he said dryly.

Trowa laughed aloud, offering a hand, which Duo took, and pulling the braided man to his feet. "Sorry about that," he said sincerely. "I forget all about him sometimes."

"I dunno how—if he keeps shrieking like a banshee." Duo eyed the bird warily. Then his mouth dropped open. "Hey—was he anywhere near your mailbox—say a week or two ago?"

Trowa started to shake his head, and then stopped. "Well, he _did _get out of the porch once—but he came back when it got dark."

Duo rolled his eyes. "Explains a lot," he sighed.

"Hm?"

"Never mind." Duo looked curiously at the bird. "Does he talk, too?"

Trowa grinned. "Say 'hello,' Zero."

The bird bobbed its head. "Hello, Zero."

Duo's eyes widened. "He sounds like your roommate!"

"Yep. He's an excellent mimic, and most of his talking he learned from Heero." Trowa reached up and stroked the feathered head. "The scream—he knew before."

Duo cocked his head. "Before?"

"Heero rescued him."

"No shit?"

"Nope." Trowa gestured towards the kitchen. "Hey, you want a drink or something?"

"Naw. I really gotta be getting back on the road," Duo said a bit reluctantly, his curiosity piqued all the more now that he'd met the second occupant of the farmhouse. "But thanks."

"No. Thank _you_," Trowa said firmly. "I really do appreciate you taking the time to help me with that. I'm bored out of my mind on these crutches, and reading helps keep me occupied."

"I'll bet." Duo glanced at the dusty trunk, as he brushed some of that dust off himself. "What kinda books are in something that old?"

"Journals. From one of my ancestors, I think."

Duo's eyes widened. "Cool!"

"Yeah, I think so, too."

Duo would have liked to stay and continue the conversation. He wondered if the old man the kids around town feared so much had written the journals, and what might be in them. But he really was behind schedule, and had plenty of other mail left to deliver.

"Hey, nice meeting you," he told Trowa, holding out a hand.

"Likewise," Trowa replied, shaking it. "C'mon back sometime and I'll show you around the place."

Duo grinned. "I'm here five days a week," he pointed out. "But maybe I'll make a trip up when I'm not on postal time."

"You do that."

Trowa showed him back out, and moments later, Duo was on his way, driving down the dirt lane with a wistful smile.

"Damn, but Hilde was right about the green eyes," he noted.

When he got back to the office a couple of hours later, he quickly put away his trays, and walked up to give Quatre the receipts from his accountable mail. "Hey, Blondie—guess who I met today?"

Quatre looked up with a scowl at the unwelcome nickname. "I told you not to call me that."

"I know. But it fits."

"I don't call you 'Brunettie,' do I?"

"No. But I think 'Braid-Boy' might've crossed your lips a time or two," Duo reminded him with a mock scowl.

"Only in self-defense."

"Retaliation maybe," Duo conceded. He waved the little pink slip in his hand. "Do you or don't you wanna know who I met today?"

"Oh. Yes. Sure." Quatre blinked big blue eyes at him. "Who'd you meet?"

Duo paused for effect, and then grinned slyly and said, "Trowa Barton."

"Really?"

"Yep. He signed for the express mail himself. His tall, dark and scowling roommate wasn't around, apparently." Duo's grin turned smug. "He's hot."

"His roommate?"

"No—Barton!"

Quatre raised an eyebrow. "Seriously?"

"Seriously _hot_," Duo crooned suggestively. "Tall. Slender. But not anorexic-slender. More like a whip—all muscle—but lean." He gave a dramatic sigh. "And he's got the darkest green eyes you ever saw. At least, what I could see of 'em. His hair kinda sweeps across one side of his face, so you can't really see both eyes. But the color was incredible."

"Green eyes," Quatre echoed wistfully. He shook out of his reverie and fixed a curious look on Duo. "What color's his hair?"

"Sort of reddish-brown. Lighter than mine. I guess you'd call it auburn."

"Oh yes!" Quatre gushed. "That sounds perfect. And poetic."

Duo rolled his eyes. "You are _such _a romantic, Quat!"

"Me? _You're_ the one waxing poetic about the whip-thin hot guy—with the 'darkest green eyes you ever saw.'"

"They were," Duo snipped defensively.

"I'll bet." Quatre teased. "And you probably wanted to stare into them all day long." He glanced down at the scrawled signature on the receipt. "So was Barton nicer than Yuy?"

"_Much _nicer!" Duo plunked himself down on the edge of the desk, leaning in and smirking mischievously. "He invited me in."

"Really?" Quatre's eyebrows both rose to his hairline. "Inside the 'creepy, haunted house?' And you _went_?"

"I kinda had to," Duo shrugged, pulling a granola bar out of his pocket and peeling off the wrapper. "He asked if I'd help him move a trunk full of books from the top of the stairs down to the bottom. Said he could drag it along okay, but lifting was out of the question." He took a bite of his snack, crunching happily. "Did I mention he's on crutches?"

Quatre's attention was wholly riveted on his employee by this time. "Crutches?"

"Said he had knee surgery a few weeks back; he has to wear a brace and stay on crutches most of the time."

"Oh." Quatre frowned thoughtfully. "Maybe Yuy's his private nurse or something."

Duo choked on his granola bar, coughing and sputtering. "Private nurse?" he exploded. "Are you shittin' me? _Yuy? _The guy hasn't got a nurturing bone in his body!"

"How do you know that?" Quatre countered. "Besides, nurturing or not, he could be an excellent nurse. They have to be organized and thorough—not warm and fuzzy, y'know."

Duo waved a hand dismissively. "Yeah, whatever," he scoffed. "But I'm tellin' ya. Yuy's a lot more likely to be a freakin' bodyguard than any kind of caregiver. Seriously, Quat. You met the guy. He was stone cold, wasn't he?"

The postmaster gave a little shrug. "He was pissed off," he admitted. "But then, those envelopes _did _look the worse for wear."

"Well, I wouldn't have dropped them if it wasn't for that scream—." Duo stopped cold, snapping his jaw shut.

"Scream?" Quatre asked, lifting an eyebrow. "You heard a scream?"

"Oops."

"Talk to me, Duo. What do you mean about a scream?"

Duo hung his head sheepishly. "I didn't mention it at the time, because you'd have thought I imagined it or something—."

"Didn't you?"

"No!" Duo asserted. "Now that we're on the subject, turns out Heero's got a pet parrot—Zero. He got out a couple of weeks ago, the night I dropped the mail." Duo shook his head. "Damn thing screams just like someone being murdered. It's fuckin' creepy as hell!"

"You mean to tell me, you dropped the mail that day because you heard a scream?" A smirk teased at Quatre's lips.

"Yes. And I tried to pick it all up as fast as I could—only there was another scream, and—." Duo stopped at the sound of irrepressible snickering, and in the next instant, Quatre was doubled over, laughing helplessly.

"Gawd, I wish I could've seen your face!" he managed to blurt through his hilarity.

"It wasn't funny!" Duo snarled. "I just about wet myself, Quat—."

For some reason, that only served to amuse his boss further, and the blonde ended up sprawled across his desk, clutching at his stomach.

"Yeah, you'd be laughin' out the other side of your face if I'd driven up a tree and you hadda fill out ten pages of an accident report!" Duo said defensively.

"I'm sure I w-would," Quatre chortled, trying desperately to regain control before a customer wandered in. "What's the term used for 'accident by parrot,' anyway?"

"Parricide?" Duo hazarded.

"No," chortled his boss. "That's murdering a parent. And parrotcide would be killing the bird." Quatre shrugged happily. "We could make up our own word—parrodent—accident by parrot!"

"I hate you."

Quatre dissolved once more, and Duo just threw up his hands in disgust and walked away.

"I'm going home, Quat. You enjoy your little chuckle, why don't you? And I'll just stop by the clinic and pick up some nitro pills for next time I have a heart attack on the route, eh?"

"Duo—don't be mad—."

His plea might have garnered more of a response, if it hadn't been choked off with laughter.

"Fuck you, Quat. You haven't seen the shit out in these hills that I have," Duo said darkly, recalling all the stories that had been bandied about in local gossip over the years, as well as the things he'd heard about from reliable sources or seen firsthand. "There's reasons for the stories people tell!"

"I—I'm sure there are," Quatre sputtered, trying to pull himself together. "And I'm not laughing at your expense, Duo, honest! Just—if I told you I got scared half out of my wits by a bird call, wouldn't you laugh?"

Duo pursed his lips, scowling. "Maybe. A little. But I don't think I'd bust a gut the way _you _just did."

"Sure you would. You an' Hilde would have me beet red blushing while you regaled the entire pub with the story!" he accused.

A faint smile finally twitched Duo's lips. "Not the _whole _pub. Maybe just the bartender and a few regulars…"


	13. Returning a Favor

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, bigotry, swearing some OOC

Pairings: 1X2 eventually, 3X4 also eventually

A/N: I'm updating a few hours early, Monday night instead of Tuesday morning, because I've got divorce court stuff tomorrow, and might be pressed for time in the morning. So, better early than late, right?

SMOKY HILLS

_"Once again, Jacob got into trouble for fighting with another boy in school. But this time it was Aaron. I can't say it's a surprise to me, considering they both pine over the same girl. But I'd hoped their friendship would be stronger than their jealousy. Of course, Annabelle doesn't help matters, refusing to make a choice between them. I've tried to suggest to Jacob that she's not the only pretty girl in town, but since when has any young man in the flush of 'first love' ever listened to his father...?"_

—_excerpt from the private journal of Ephraim Barton_

Chapter Thirteen: Returning a Favor

Heero arrived home after a long day consisting of over four hours of driving, half an hour spent sitting in a waiting room at the vet's office, an hour-long examination of his dog, and a brief stop for a meal on the way back.

The only reason he wasn't in a perfectly foul temper was that Thor had no broken or fractured bones, and was expected to be completely healed in a matter of days. But he was tired—very tired—and not particularly thrilled at the hundred bucks he'd had to shell out for x-rays, stitches and antibiotics for his wayward hound.

"Hey, you're back! How'd it go?" Trowa asked from his comfy seat in the overstuffed chair they'd nabbed from a tag sale.

"He's fine. They stitched the foot and gave me antibiotics for him. No bones are broken, and I told them you'd be able to remove the stitches in ten days."

"Yeah—piece of cake."

Heero paused at the sight of the open trunk in the living room, while Thor meandered on into the kitchen, looking for supper. "Trowa—how did you manhandle that thing down the stairs?"

The auburn-haired man hung his head rather sheepishly. "I asked the mailman in to help with it when he dropped off the express mail packet from the doctor's office in Sanc."

"The mailman?"

"Yes." Trowa gave a sly smile. "Your description didn't do him justice."

The cold blue eyes narrowed. "I told you he had long hair and an attitude. Was that not accurate?"

"I dunno. He didn't seem to have an attitude with _me_." Trowa shrugged. "And you never mentioned how good-looking he was, or that he had a smile to die for."

"I don't recall seeing him smile," Heero retorted, picking up a leather-bound volume sitting on the table beside the trunk.

"Well of course not. You were complaining about the lousy mail service at the time."

"He didn't smile when he dropped off the dog, either."

"Perhaps if you'd been civil—."

"I _was_ civil. But I was more concerned with tending to Thor's injury than making small talk with the person who brought him home."

"Maybe you should've. Made small talk, that is. He's a nice guy." Trowa sipped his tea, looking carefully over the edge at his roommate. "I told him to stop by again some time."

"Why?"

"He was interested in the journals, I think. And after he was nice enough to lug the trunk down here for me, I felt like I owed him."

"Have you forgotten what's out in the barn, Barton? The last thing we need is a parade of visitors to this place." Heero scowled sternly.

"One person is hardly a parade—."

"No, he's just a person who knows everyone in town by name, since he delivers their mail. He's probably the biggest gossip around."

"I thought the girl at the gas station was."

Heero paused, thinking it over, and finally shaking his head and giving an exasperated huff. "Fine then. He's probably the _second _biggest gossip."

"But so much cuter—."

"I'm going to start supper," Heero cut in firmly. "What would you like?"

"Soup and sandwiches would be more than enough," Trowa suggested. "You look beat."

"I am."

"Then take a break from cooking."

"I don't think so. After eating fast food for lunch, I need something _real_," Heero grumbled. "Oh, wait!" He hastily patted himself down and pulled a slightly crumpled bag from the pocket of his windbreaker. "I brought you a crispy chicken sandwich."

"My favorite!" Trowa said with a grin, holding out a hand. "And I thought you were kidding about the 'person' bag."

"Don't you want to save it for lunch tomorrow?" Heero asked. "You'll spoil your supper."

"No I won't. This'll just be an appetizer." Trowa leaned far enough to snag his treat out of Heero's hand. "Kinda like the mailman."

"Would you stop talking about him?" came an exasperated sigh.

Trowa raised an eyebrow, studying his friend. "I think I was right about his being gay," he said teasingly. "And not because of the hair. He _totally _checked me out when he was walking up to the porch."

Heero scowled. "Good for you." He turned away and headed for the kitchen.

"Yeah, it was," Trowa snickered, peeling open the bag and diving in after his crispy sandwich.

Once he finished his "appetizer," he rolled up the wrapper and bag, and got himself out of the chair to go keep Heero company in the kitchen. He found his roommate chopping up vegetables for a salad, with Zero on his perch in the corner, waiting for an occasional morsel to be passed along.

Trowa chuckled. "By the way, Zero let out one of his death screams while the poor mailman was here. The guy went ass backwards over the trunk."

A smirk twitched one corner of Heero's mouth.

"Bet you'd have liked to see it."

"I might at that—considering his attitude when we first met."

"Yeah, but he brought Thor home."

"Yes, he did. And I thought I asked you to shut up about him."

"I know. I'm just saying, he was a pretty good sport about everything, and you might want to be a little nicer to him in the future."

"I intend to. Out of gratitude if nothing else. He could have ignored Thor and left him wandering the forest alone at night."

"Not and been _human_."

"I know a lot of 'humans' who wouldn't give it a second thought."

"Yeah, well—that's all back in Sanc. We've got a fresh start here, 'Ro. A chance to try out a different kind of life—to meet different people."

"I'm not here to socialize. I'm here to get you back on your feet."

"And to get your head squared away," Trowa reminded him.

"That, too."

As Heero passed the table on the way to the refrigerator, he saw the leather-bound book Trowa had brought along and laid on the table. He paused and put a hand on it. "So you found more journals in the trunk, eh?"

Trowa nodded.

"D'you know who wrote them?"

"Well, the one I'm reading now belonged to Ephraim Barton. I'd guess he was my great-great, or triple-great grandfather."

Heero raised an eyebrow, and looked down at the rows of spidery script, slowly flipping through a few pages. "Ephraim?"

"Yeah," Trowa said with a lopsided grin. "Pretty colonial, huh?"

"Very."

"He was a kind of interesting guy, really," Trowa commented. "There are several volumes of diaries in the trunk. The one you're holding is the first, I think, judging from the date on the inside cover."

"He talks a lot about the land around here, doesn't he? And the weather," Heero noted, reading as they talked.

"Yep."

"He was a farmer."

"Uh-huh. Apparently _all _the Bartons have been."

"Why do you draw that conclusion?"

"The place is still a farm, isn't it? Never got sold or subdivided."

"True." Heero glanced up from the book. "You could probably get a pretty penny for it, if you talked to a developer. Land is at a premium these days."

"Yes, but—." Trowa looked out the window, studying the way the spreading branches of an oak tree shaded the porch. "This place is kind of nice the way it is."

The wistful tone of his voice made Heero look more intently at him. "So, you're really serious about staying here?"

"I think I am."

The Japanese man's mouth twitched in a faint smile. "Then I guess I'd better get back to the hardware store and order more lumber, eh?"

"You're really going to help me turn this place into a rehab center for exotics?" Trowa asked, with a hint of excitement in his voice.

"I'll help you turn it into anything you want," Heero replied with a smile, closing the book and setting it back on the end table. "After supper."

Trowa rolled his eyes. "You are such a nag sometimes, Heero. Wholesome breakfasts…three meals a day...I'm gonna end up fat."

"Not on what I feed you," Heero objected. "It's a well-balanced diet."

"I'm sitting around all the time. It's not like I'm burning off the calories," Trowa protested.

"Your body is healing from surgery, Barton. It needs building blocks. And once you start exercising, it'll need even more."

"Yes, mother," sighed the slim man, looking ruefully down at the brace on his leg. He'd been told to wear it for the first few weeks, when he was moving around on crutches, in case he lost his balance and put too much weight on the injured knee too quickly. But it was too warm, and made his leg itch and chafe unpleasantly. "I'll be glad when they tell me I can throw this thing out."

"Soon, Trowa, soon," Heero promised, patting his friend on the shoulder, and going back to continue the supper preparations.

Trowa picked up the leather journal, and opened to the page he'd left off, eager to read more of his ancestor's observations about the land and the town.

Heero had to say his name twice to get his attention before setting a plate of food in front of him.

"That must be the most interesting thing in the world, Barton," he noted, sitting down and digging in to his own meal.

"Did you know Ephraim's wife died when their son was only eight years old?"

Heero rolled his eyes. "Obviously not, since _you're _the one reading the journals. There's probably not another living soul who's ever laid eyes on them."

"Not true." Trowa jerked his head in the direction of the living room. "A couple of newer volumes looked to be written by his grandson. And another must've been the first Dekim Barton—my grandfather—because I saw mention of a still and Prohibition."

"Your ancestors were bootleggers?"

"Looks that way."

"No wonder you ignore 'no trespassing' signs. It's hereditary," Heero teased. But his blue eyes warmed a bit. "Maybe I'll have to read some of those diaries, too. They sound intriguing."

"Duo thought so."

"Duo? The _mailman,_ Duo? You're on a first-name basis already?"

"Most people don't use last names in conversation," Trowa pointed out. "I introduced myself as Trowa, and he told me he's Duo."

"I see. So we're back to this subject again?"

"No," Trowa assured him. "I was just saying, old journals bring out the curiosity in everyone. And these have some really interesting tidbits—about the history of the town and the hills around it."

"Never took you for a bookworm, Barton."

"Hey—knee surgery will do that to a guy! When you're used to being active and you can't be—you've gotta find _some _kind of outlet. And bein' that I'm single, there's not much to do in bed but read."

"Maybe you should look up the pretty blonde postmaster then," Heero shot back, turning the tables on his roommate. "As I recall, you're particularly partial to blondes…"

"Touché." Trowa kept his face impassive, not wanting to let Heero know that last remark had stung a bit.

But it seemed that Heero knew anyway. "Sorry. Cheap shot." He stood and started clearing away his plate. "I'm going to the gas station. Can you think of anything we need?"

"Milk. I used the last of it with lunch. And the bread is going pretty fast. Maybe another loaf would be good."

"Got it."

Heero headed out before Trowa had even finished eating, partly to get out and back before dark, and partly because he felt badly for bringing up an unpleasant incident. It wasn't Trowa's fault he'd been humiliated—although, if he'd listened to Heero's warnings, maybe it never would've happened.

"Shit. I should just shut up sometimes," Heero muttered, as he pulled out of the driveway and headed down the winding road.

He took note along the way, of places that could use bright new "no trespassing" signs, and began a mental tally of how many he'd need.

When he got to the convenience store, he remembered to pump the gas first, before going in to shop.

"Hey there, Mister Yuy!"

He nodded to the perky clerk, and headed for the back of the store where the milk was kept.

Along the way, he passed a news rack, and his glance was caught by a headline about Sanc, so he paused to give it a closer look.

He vaguely registered the sound of the little door chime again, and then heard Hilde calling out her cheery greeting to Duo.

God—why was it he seemed destined to keep encountering the sassy mailman?

"Hey sweetness," came Duo's reply to the girl, the teasing comment overwritten by a tension in his voice. "Ring me up quick. Company's comin'."

"Shit! You've got crap for timing, Duo."

"Tell me about it."

"Duo—if you an' those two bust this place up again—!"

"Yeah, I know. Just hurry up with the register, will ya?"

And then the door chimed again, and Heero glanced up at the round mirror in the corner and saw two men walking in and immediately approaching Duo.

"Well, if it isn't Miss Maxwell?" came the voice of one, sounding deliberately taunting.

"Ain't she pretty today—all that nice, long hair?" said the other.

Heero saw the mailman grimly pull his hat lower and turn towards the counter, tossing his money onto it, while Hilde glared past him at the new arrivals.

"Well hey, Hilde," the first man spoke up, heading over beside Duo while the other took a position blocking the exit. "Is this long-haired freak bothering you?"

The girl's eyes narrowed. "You know damned well he's not, Trant. Why don't you and Otto get your sorry asses out of here before I call the cops?"

"You turnin' away paying customers now?" the man at the door spoke up, glaring and crossing his arms over his chest. "Wait'll my dad hears that, and mentions it to the Chamber of Commerce. I'll bet they rethink that plan to bring in a big-chain gas station and put this place out of business."

"If you're paying," Hilde snapped back, "then stop blocking the door and get busy shopping. Otherwise, get out!"

The one called Otto shifted his bulky frame away from the entrance, but at the same time, Trant intercepted Duo, leaning in with an ugly leer on his face.

"C'mon, pretty boy, how 'bout givin' me an' Otto a few minutes of your time, hm? If you're good enough, maybe we'd even pay you—."

Duo's fist connected before the other man finished the sentence, but before he could press his advantage, Otto had slipped around behind him and pinned his arms to his sides.

Trant shook off the blow and closed in, grinning maliciously. "Not very nice, Maxwell. I gave you a compliment there, and you hadda go disturbing the peace—."

Heero had heard more than enough. He made his way back up the aisle, pretending to be oblivious to what was going on. "Excuse me, miss. I can't seem to find the two percent milk."

Four heads turned his way, and he resisted the impulse to smirk at their dumfounded expressions. Clearly even the girl behind the counter had forgotten he was there.

"Buzz off, mister," Trant said with a sneer. "The place is temporarily closed. Go buy your milk somewhere else."

"The sign said 'open,'" Heero pointed out coolly.

Otto looked up from where he was still holding a struggling Duo in his meaty arms. "Maybe you can't read English, you slanty-eyed geek. Get the fuck out!"

Heero's deep blue eyes widened, and then went cold as ice. "I'll be happy to leave—after I finish purchasing my gas and milk. Do you mind getting the _fuck _out of my way?"

Duo's face was flushed with either anger or embarrassment, and his lips worked as if he were thinking of calling out a warning. But Heero didn't need the trapped mailman to tell him the two thugs were trouble.

Trant took a step towards Heero, who rocked eagerly forward onto his toes, ready for the confrontation. But at the same moment, Duo elbowed Otto in the gut and ripped himself free, losing a fair portion of his tee shirt in the beefy hand that had been gripping it.

"Hilde—call the cops!" he said sharply, sidestepping Otto's lunge, and ending up almost shoulder to shoulder with Heero. Or actually, he seemed to be trying to get between the Japanese man and the two bullies.

Heero fought down a smirk at the position the slim young man took—as if he needed protection!

Hilde held up a cell phone. "Already done, Duo!"

Trant scowled, exchanging a quick look with his partner, and then they both dashed out the door, jumping into a beat up pickup outside and roaring off in a shower of dust and gravel.

Duo breathed a gusty sigh of relief, running a hand back through his bangs.

"Are you okay?" Heero asked quietly.

Duo looked at him in disbelief, and then nodded numbly. "Yeah. Thanks."

Heero shrugged, and the hint of a smirk touched his lips. "I was in the neighborhood," he quipped, using Duo's line from the night before.

A faint blush crept up Duo's cheeks, even as he gave a grateful smile, and then he turned an apologetic look Hilde's way. "Sorry about the fuss," he sighed. "Did you really call the cops, or was that just a bluff?"

She smirked back. "A bluff. You know if the cops came, they'd throw you in jail right along with those two idiots until they sorted things out." Her gaze turned a bit stern. "You can't afford any more trouble, Duo."

"Don't I know it?"

Hilde gestured to a rack of tee shirts with slogans on them. "Take one of those stupid shirts, why don't you? It's on the house, since yours got ruined, and you didn't let those jerks trash the place."

Duo self-consciously plucked at his torn shirt. "Yeah, thanks Hil." He grabbed one of the less obnoxious shirts, and changed with his back to Heero, before turning around and tossing the remains of his old one in the trash.

Heero looked curiously between the two. "Care to explain why those two were so intent on causing trouble?"

Duo ducked his head and shrugged, just as Hilde blurted out, "Otto and Trant are just a couple of bullies—freakin' homophobes—."

Duo's head shot up, and he turned a warning look to his friend a bit too late. "Jesus," he muttered under his breath, not looking back at Heero. _Might as well just get it printed on a tee shirt, once Hilde knew someone's deep, dark secret—not that the whole town didn't already know—but the blue-eyed Japanese man hadn't._

Duo sighed. "Gotta go, Hilde," he said in a tone that was just tight enough to clue her in to what she'd done. But he was out the door before she could apologize.

She looked at Heero's unreadable expression and forced a smile. "Thanks for helpin' him out; last time he tangled with those two, they messed him up pretty good."

The Japanese man frowned. "Why didn't the local police put them away for assault?"

Hilde gave a sigh. "Duo wouldn't press charges."

"Why not?"

"Dumb pride?" she hazarded with a faint smile. "He's lived in this town all his life, and put up with those two the whole time. He usually gives as good as he gets, unless they catch him unawares."

"Still—why not put an end to their harassment?"

"Because pressing charges wouldn't do that. Otto's dad owns the lumber mill and has the Chamber of Commerce in his pocket along with half the town government, and Trant's was a cop all his life. Even though he died a couple of years back, his friends are still on the force. Trant and Otto have pretty much gotten away with murder their whole lives."

"That doesn't make it right," Heero asserted, the cold gleam in his blue eyes making the girl take a step back.

"Right or wrong—it's the way things work here," she said quietly.

Heero shook his head. "Maybe things need to change."

"I wish—!" she said with a rueful laugh. "Hey—the two percent milk—."

"I know where it is," Heero said crisply, turning and heading back to the cooler to complete his shopping.

He didn't see the speculative look the girl threw after him, or the trace of a smile that touched her lips.


	14. A Step Too Far

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, bigotry, swearing, some OOC

Pairings: 1X2 eventually, 3X4 also eventually

A/N: Once again, I'm updating a few hours early, in case the morning gets hectic. It's my last day of jury duty, unless we all disagree and end up deliberating for weeks on end (not likely). Next week I'll be back to Tuesday/Friday updates, at least until I run out of chapters and have to write and post at the same time. I have a month's worth, so maybe I can be ahead again by then. Thanks for all the support and encouragement!

SMOKY HILLS

_"I'd hoped that Jacob and Aaron might have patched up their differences by this time, but they are two very stubborn young men. Annabelle has apparently washed her hands of both of them, and according to popular rumor, has her eye on the Griffin boy. Perhaps I'm getting old faster than I thought, but it seems to me things used to be much simpler. You found a girl you liked, tried to ascertain if she liked you back, and if she did, you asked her father's permission to court her. If he didn't grab for his shotgun, you had a fair chance of success. Ah, well, now that I think it over, perhaps it was rather complicated, after all…"_

—_excerpt from the private journal of Ephraim Barton_

Chapter Fourteen: A Step too Far

Duo could still feel the blush on his face all the way to his Jeep. Damn Hilde anyway! You'd think after all the years she'd known him, she'd have realized he didn't want the new guy in town knowing about his sexual orientation. But then, since it was "common knowledge," she probably figured it didn't matter; if she didn't blab it, someone else would.

"Fuck me," Duo muttered, hopping in and starting up the Jeep.

He was so distracted thinking of the horrid impression Heero must have of him—on top of already thinking he was a lousy mailman—that when he rounded the corner going up route 20, he didn't notice the pickup truck that pulled in behind him. At least, he didn't notice until it loomed in his rearview mirror, and the front end connected with the back of his Jeep.

"What the fuck—?" Duo barely controlled the lurching vehicle, swerving from the right lane to the left, and then back again, before he had it stabilized. He glared up into the mirror and recognized Otto's battered truck closing in on his rear bumper again. "Jesus Christ!" he spat, stepping on the gas and trying to put some distance between them.

It only took an instant for Otto to realize what Duo was attempting, and he sped up some more, tapping the Jeep again.

Duo found it easier to control the vehicle this time, since he was prepared, and his momentary confusion and shock was replaced with overwhelming anger. "Goddamn it," he growled. "This is bullshit!"

He shifted and stomped on his gas pedal, accelerating away from the truck. "Wanna play tag, shithead?" he snarled. "Fine by me!"

At the next crossroad, he yanked the wheel hard, almost tilting the Jeep onto two wheels as he careened around the corner at barely reduced speed. He gritted his teeth in a fierce grin as he saw Otto fishtailing and falling back when he attempted the same move, only with a lot less polish and finesse. "Ha! Still got it, Maxwell," he murmured to himself.

In the next instant, he sped around a corner and very nearly rear-ended a tractor hauling a manure spreader behind it. And while normally he could have passed, there was also a car coming the other way.

"Shit!" Duo slammed on his brakes and went up onto the grassy bank beside the road, sideswiping a small tree, and then jouncing and bouncing over the rough ground and scattered branches and rocks, before pulling back onto the travel lane in front of the tractor, and once again stepping on the accelerator.

He looked back and breathed a sigh, seeing that Otto had opted to stay behind the slow-moving farm vehicle. But he didn't wait around to find out if the other boys would resume the chase once they cleared the obstacle.

He took the first side road heading back towards town, and reduced his speed to normal, as soon as he was convinced the others had either missed his turn or given up the chase.

And then the adrenaline high faded, leaving his hands shaking as they clutched the steering wheel. "Fuck," he whispered, feeling sweat beading on his forehead and nausea settling into his stomach.

Duo's feud with Otto and Trant went all the way back to grade school; but somehow instead of outgrowing their differences after high school, they'd only gotten worse with age. The bullying and teasing had intensified into something that bordered on harassment.

Duo snorted to himself—_bordered_ on it? Trant and Otto's behavior went right off the edge. But with the other boys' parents deeply entrenched in the town leadership, and some of their family in the police department, Duo didn't even consider filing charges.

It was partly pride that held him back—not wanting to admit he couldn't handle a couple of overgrown thugs—and partly mistrust of the local authorities. The Smoky Hills cops had never been what he considered allies—not even the ones who weren't pals with Trant's old man. They'd never done him a good turn, and he knew they weren't about to start now. But after this latest, most dangerous encounter, he kind of wished they would. It might've been nice to have someone in a position to run interference—someone other than a newcomer who happened to be in the right place at the right time.

When Duo pulled into the driveway of the house he and Quatre shared, his pulse had almost returned to normal, and he was fairly sure he could walk without his knees quaking. But when he tried to open the door of his right-hand drive vehicle, he realized it was jammed firmly in place. He ended up climbing out the opposite door and walking around to examine the damage.

"Aw, crap."

The tree had hit the door just hard enough to push it back into the edge where it closed, effectively wedging the metal so tightly it would probably have to be cut off with a torch.

"Fuck!" Duo kicked the tire good and hard, wishing it was Otto's face. "Goddamned fucking psycho—!"

"Duo?" Quatre stuck his had out the kitchen window, obviously having heard the litany of swearing from his friend. "What's the matter?"

"Those freakin' idiots went too far this time!" Duo ranted. "Fuckin' tryin' to run me off the road—!"

"Who did?" Quatre asked, his face readably grave. "Not Otto again?"

"Yes, Otto. And Trant." Duo ran a hand through his sticky bangs. "Jesus, Quat—I'm so sick of those two." He gave up on the Jeep and walked up the porch steps and into the kitchen, stopping in his tracks when he looked at his hand and realized there was blood on it.

"Duo, you're bleeding!" Quatre gasped, running over to tilt his head and examine the bruise and cut just above his right temple. "What happened?"

"Probably banged it on the door when I hit the tree," Duo said absently, trying to push Quatre's hand away.

"You hit a tree?" Quatre squeaked. "Duo—what happened?"

"Have we got any cold beer?" Duo asked plaintively, walking past him to the refrigerator.

"Bottom shelf, right side," came the automatic reply, as Quatre trailed him across the kitchen. "Duo—!"

"Okay. Gimme a sec." Duo pulled out a beer, passed another to Quatre, and then closed the door and held the frosty bottle to his now-throbbing temple. Before he'd been made aware of his injury, his mind hadn't registered the sensation of pain—but now it was coming through with a vengeance.

"I'll get some iodine and bandaids," Quatre said with a frustrated huff. He went to the bathroom in the hall, and brought back the first aid kit.

Duo was sitting on a stool, alternating between taking sips of his beer and holding it to his injured head.

"Here. Let me," Quatre said, pushing the bottle away and taking a clean cloth to dab the blood away from Duo's sweaty temple.

Duo hissed between his teeth.

"Don't be a baby. I haven't even gotten to the iodine yet," Quatre chided. "And how 'bout you tell me what happened while I do this, hm?"

"I was at Howie's, filling up the Jeep. But as I went in to pay, I saw Otto and Trant pulling in behind me."

"Shit."

"I tried to hurry it up—tossed the money to Hilde and tried to get out of there before they came in—but they made sure I didn't make it."

Quatre frowned, examining the dark bruises already forming around Duo's eye. "You whacked this a good one," he noted.

"Lucky me." Duo finished his beer in a few gulps and set the bottle down. "Anyhow, the two assholes came inside and started hassling me, and then Yuy was there. He must've been in the back of the store when I walked in, 'cause that was the first I saw of him." He winced and jerked away as Quatre dabbed iodine on the cut. "Jesus, that stings!"

"Sorry."

"'S okay," Duo mumbled.

"So, go on. What about Yuy?"

"Oh. He came walking up and got in the way. I think Trant was about to try to pound him into paste when I got away from Otto and jumped in between 'em. Then Hilde pretended she'd called the cops, and Mutt and Jeff ran off." Duo sat with his elbows on his knees, hands hanging down between them, while Quatre carefully placed a bandaid over the cut.

"I swear, I think Yuy was looking for a fight," Duo mused, studying the carpet between his feet. "Trant would've been a freakin' idiot to take him on. The guy looked flaming pissed!" He grinned up at his roommate. "Hot, too."

"Is that all you think about?"

"What else is there?" Duo straightened, feeling the bandaid with his fingers. "Doesn't matter anyway," he sighed, sobering. "Hilde fuckin' told him I'm gay. What do you want to bet he steers clear of me from now on?"

"She _told_ him? Why?"

"He asked what Otto and Trant's problem was with me, and she said they're a couple of homophobes." Duo shook his head, eyeing the empty beer bottle wistfully. "We got any more beer, Quat?"

His boss got up without answering and went to the kitchen, bringing out a fresh bottle and handing it over without comment.

"Thanks." Duo twisted the cap off and downed a hefty portion of the drink.

"You're welcome. Sorry Hilde's a blabbermouth. But it could work out for the best—if Yuy happens to be—."

"Don't go there!" Duo cautioned. "Don't _even _get my hopes up, Quat. He's straight. He's gorgeous and drool-worthy and totally unattainable. Besides, he hates my guts."

Quatre's mouth opened, but then he thought better of whatever he'd planned to say. "So—let's get back to Otto and Trant. You said something about them trying to run you off the road."

"Yeah. That was afterwards. I left the store, and they were waiting about a half a mile up the road. Y'know where it curves before you get to the turnoff for the reservoir?"

"Yes, I do." Quatre's face darkened. "That's a hell of a place for them to start playing games, Duo." He knew the stretch of road very well. There was a ravine on one side, and rock ledge on the other. It was no place to play cat and mouse with another vehicle. "You need to report this to the police."

Duo looked up sharply, in the middle of taking a sip of beer. He carefully pulled the bottle away from his lips. "No."

"Why not?"

"Because it's the same old shit, different day," Duo shrugged. "And it's my word against theirs. Who d'you think the cops will believe?"

"Hilde and Mister Yuy could corroborate your story."

"Only up to the point where I left the store. And Otto and Trant left before me. No, Quatre. There's no point in making a big deal out of this. I'll just get the Jeep fixed and take it out of Otto's hide the next time I see him."

"And get yourself arrested?"

Duo grinned evilly. "I'll make sure there're no witnesses then, either."

"That's no solution."

"That's because there _isn't _one. You know it as well as I do. We just hate each other's guts and that's the way it'll be—until I find my way out of this dead end town." Duo finished off his second beer and set the bottle down. "Y'think you can get Callie to do the route tomorrow so I can take the Jeep over to the garage?"

"Sure. I'll give her a call right now, and put you down for a day of sick leave tomorrow."

"I'm not sick."

Quatre looked pointedly at the bandaid on Duo's temple. "You're injured. It's close enough."

"Sure, boss."

Duo headed for bed shortly thereafter, claiming fatigue on top of two beers and a whack to the head. But instead of nodding off, he found himself staring up at the ceiling unable to sleep. His thoughts ran their usual course, worrying about getting the Jeep repaired, and fuming over the run-in with his rivals. And then they turned away from old grudges, and towards more cheerful things—like the new guys in town.

He thought about the warm smile Heero had thrown over his shoulder as he carried Thor up to the house. And then he thought about Trowa's friendly greeting, and how easy it was to talk to the green-eyed man.

Those journals sounded interesting. Who'd have thought nasty old man Barton would keep a diary? And what kind of secrets would he have divulged?

Popular opinion was that the farm had once been used for bootlegging, and that the reigning patriarch of the clan at the time made a veritable fortune in that venture. How cool would it be to find out the truth, in the old man's own words?

He was tempted to take Trowa up on the invitation to stop by again—if only to see the expression on Heero's face when he showed up at the door.

But then he remembered Hilde's big mouth, and wondered if instead of surprise, he'd see scorn, or revulsion in those deep blue eyes. He hadn't had the guts to look at Heero after she shot her mouth off, and he'd made his escape before anything could be said to indicate the Japanese man's thoughts on the subject. For all he knew, the guy could be a worse homophobe than Otto and Trant.

On top of that, he'd probably share what he'd found out with Trowa. So for all Duo knew, that invitation to visit was no longer on the table.

"Dammit."

He rolled over and punched his pillow a few times to fluff it up—and work off a little frustration. And then he settled more comfortably into it and tried once again to sleep.

Just about the time he was ready to give up and just get out of bed and start a project or something to occupy his thoughts, there was a tap on the door, and Quatre stuck his head in.

"What?"

"I knew you wouldn't be sleeping." The blonde pushed the door open and walked in carrying two steaming mugs.

"What's that?" Duo asked suspiciously, sitting up and tossing his braid over his shoulder.

"The ultimate sedative—hot cocoa."

"I thought warm milk was the sedative."

Quatre shook his head, passing a mug to Duo and sitting on the edge of the bed. "Cocoa works just as well." He raised his cup, tapped it against Duo's, and then took a big swig of his drink.

Duo followed suit, sipping the creamy mixture, and he couldn't help smiling a little. "Gonna sing me a lullaby, too?"

"No. But I might be able to come up with a bedtime story—."

Duo smirked at his friend. "Would it involve a hot, blue-eyed hero?"

"As if _that_ would put you to sleep—!" scoffed Quatre. "I was thinking more along the lines of 'Duo and the Beanstalk.'"

Duo laughed aloud at that, shaking his head. "You are too much, Mother Quat." He finished up his cocoa in a few swallows, and found himself giving a genuine yawn. "I think your cocoa did the trick," he pointed out. "Feelin' sleepier already."

"Then my work here is done." Quatre patted Duo's head fondly. "Go to sleep. I'll try to be quiet in the morning so you can sleep in."

"Yeah, I'll call the garage when I get up and see how soon they can get me in. Maybe they can un-wedge that door and pull out the dent without my having to invest in a lot of fancy body work."

Quatre gave a little growl, clearly conveying his thoughts on the subject—mainly that someone other than Duo should be financing the repair. But he didn't comment. He simply took the empty mugs and headed for the door.

"Hey, Quat?"

He paused and looked over his shoulder to see a warm and genuine smile on Duo's face.

"Thanks for everything."

Quatre smiled back. "You're welcome."


	15. Sending a Clue

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing, bigotry, some OOC

Pairings: 1X2 eventually, 3X4 also eventually

SMOKY HILLS

_"In a rare moment of respite from the hard work of farming, Jacob and I enjoyed a humorous interlude the other day. His new puppy got into the hen house, and sent the chickens scattering out the door and into the barnyard. As he felt responsible, Jacob immediately set to rounding up the hens, which was the source of the amusement. He spent over an hour chasing them, while they dodged, fluttered, squawked, and flew about the place. I tried to tell him that if you simply leave the door open, they'll find their way back in at dusk. But he was insistent, worried that while they were out foraging they might be picked off by foxes or hawks. By the time that boy had the last chicken corralled, he was a muddy, filthy, exhausted mess. But...I had to admire his sheer determination. He was a tenacious young man, a fact that made me inordinately proud of him, even while I was laughing myself silly…"_

—_excerpt from the private journal of Ephraim Barton_

Chapter Fifteen: Sending a Clue

"What took so long?" Trowa asked, when Heero walked into the house with the milk and bread. "Wing got loose and I spent over half an hour trying to catch his sorry ass."

"Don't complain to me. He's your damned bird," Heero said snidely, putting away the food before looking over the somewhat disheveled man. "You didn't hurt your knee—?"

Trowa glared back. "Oh, _now _you care." He folded his arms across his chest, scowling. "No, I didn't hurt my knee. But my armpits could use a break from having the crutches shoved up under them!"

"Where's Wing now?"

"I finally lured him in with his favorite treats," Trowa sighed. "And then I threw a pillowcase over him and wrestled him back into his cage."

"For Heaven's sake, he's a four-ounce bird! How much wrestling could've been involved?" teased his roommate.

"That depends. When you've got a crutch in one hand and a bird in a sack in the other—."

Heero chuckled. "Sorry I missed it." He sat opposite Trowa and his expression turned pensive. "I had a small altercation of my own to deal with."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. Looks like our mailman has a bit of a problem with some local homophobes."

Trowa's eyes widened, and then a triumphant grin split his face. "I _told _you he's gay! I just _knew_ it!"

Heero rolled his eyes and nodded. "Yes, Trowa, you were right. Happy?"

"Deliriously!"

"Get over yourself," Heero chided. "The poor guy was about to get the shit kicked out of him when I stepped in."

"Really?"

"I saw the whole thing in the security mirror. They ganged up on him, and one was going to hold him still while the other beat him up." His face darkened. "At least, I think that's all it was—."

"You think?"

"Well, one of them made some pretty suggestive remarks." An image of Duo's flushed face and the panicked look in his eyes when Otto had his arms restrained, flashed into Heero's mind. He scowled darkly. "Jesus, Trowa, I thought small towns were supposed to be full of kindly shopkeepers and friendly waitresses—not rapists and thugs!"

"You don't seriously think they planned to—?"

"Who the hell knows?" Heero shrugged. "It's not like Duo stayed around to explain, after the girl at the store 'outted' him. He took off like his braid was on fire."

Trowa's eyes softened with sympathy. "Poor kid. Probably embarrassed as hell—." He fixed a stern look on Heero. "You might've spoken up and said it was okay—that you understood or something—."

"I didn't get the chance. Seriously. He froze right up and then left before I could so much as blink."

Heero frowned, picturing the sheer mortification on Duo's face again. And then he recalled the moment just before that, when Duo had turned away to slip on the new shirt, revealing for a bare instant muscular shoulders and a lean torso ending in a trim waist. The braid had slithered over one shoulder as he pulled the shirt down, swinging hypnotically back and forth before settling along his spine and caressing his ass.

"Oh, Heero," Trowa said knowingly.

"What?" he snapped.

"You _like _him—."

"I do not!"

"Okay—maybe 'like' isn't the right word," Trowa corrected himself quickly, and then quirked a coy smile. "You _want _him. Or at least, his body—."

"Shut it, Trowa."

The auburn-haired man laughed gaily. "Shit! I'm right!"

"Are not," came a petulant mumble. "I feel badly for him, okay? That's _all_. He doesn't deserve to have a couple of perverts bullying him because of his sexual preferences. I mean, he's a decent guy."

"Since when?" Trowa pushed.

"Since he apologized for the damage to the mail, and brought Thor home," Heero admitted. "It's pretty obvious he's not the ass I took him for at first."

"Ah, if only he knew the same about _you_—," Trowa lamented, resisting the temptation to add a line about Heero "taking the ass" of the cute mailman.

"Well, I'd like to think he does, since I helped chase off the shitheads who were ganging up on him," Heero said wryly.

"So you did," came a musing response. "And yet you say you aren't interested in him? I think you're a liar—or at least in serious denial."

Heero narrowed his eyes. "If anyone's 'interested,' I'd think it'd be _you_," he pointed out. "Weren't you the one going on about how my description didn't do him justice—and what a nice guy he was?"

"Yes, but far be it from me to try to slip in on your action—."

Heero frowned at his roommate. "It's not my action. I mean, _he's _not." A frustrated crease settled on his forehead. "Stop talking like I want a quick piece of ass! You know me better than that, Trowa. I don't _do _casual sex."

"Maybe it's time you started," came a half-serious response. "It's been a long time since you and—."

"Stop right there!" Heero snapped. "Don't even say the name, dammit!"

"Okay. Jeeze! Touchy—."

"Yes, I am. You know that. I don't want you harping on the subject of my ex—any more than I want you pushing me to jump into bed with the mailman."

"I'm not suggesting you 'jump into bed.' I _am _saying maybe you should ask the guy out. Give him half a chance. He seemed like a nice guy. And it's for damn sure he's _hot_. If he was getting bullied by local jackasses, I'm willing to bet he's unattached, too, or there'd be a nice down-home hunk to stick up for him." Trowa's green eyes softened. "Why don't you buy him a cup of coffee—to thank him for bringing Thor home? Unless you can think of a better lame excuse."

"I did not come to this wilderness to strike up an acquaintance with anyone. I came for you, Trowa." Heero frowned at his partner. "Considering my own issues, I'm probably not in any frame of mind to start a relationship, either. And it's not about my ex; it's about my mis—." He caught himself sharply, recalling stern corrections from his therapist. "It's about the accident," he finished carefully. "I need time to put that behind me. You _know _that."

"I do," came a sympathetic reply. "But I think socializing with a nice guy like Duo might help along those lines."

"And you know him _so _well," Heero drawled sarcastically.

"I know he likes dogs, is easily startled by screaming parrots, has a soft spot for someone on crutches, can't say 'no,' if you use big, sad eyes on him, and that he's fascinated by the history of this place." Trowa looked a bit smug. "Yes, actually. I think I've got a pretty good handle on what kind of guy he is."

"Then why don't _you _ask him out?"

"Because it's obvious to me that you're interested." Trowa's green eyes hardened fractionally. "And as you pointed out—I like blondes."

"Tro', I'm sorry about that," Heero said quickly, his regret genuine. "It was a cheap shot, and I shouldn't have taken it."

"It's okay," Trowa relented, having made his point. "It's not like I haven't taken cheap shots of my own over the years."

"Yes, but—."

"It's water under the bridge," insisted the other man. "So let's focus on more timely things, shall we? For instance—." He gestured to a stack of papers on the table. "—I got the permit requirements from Sanc, complete with application forms and templates of reference letters we'll have to request. And I noticed the name of the approving official."

Heero raised an eyebrow curiously, and took the page Trowa held out. He scanned quickly down the lines of information, skipping to the line for an approver to sign. "Zechs Merquise?" he blurted in dismay. "Are you fucking _kidding _me? Merquise is the head of the permit department?"

Trowa nodded.

"Since when?"

"Apparently since January first of this year."

"Fuck!"

Trowa smiled wryly. "I said the same thing—the very minute I realized we'll have to do some serious ass-kissing to get Relena's brother to sign off on our permits to handle exotics."

"There's no way!" Heero growled. "Even if I could make myself grovel for that pompous ass, it wouldn't offset the fact that I used his sister to get closer to him."

"First off, it's going to be my name on the permit, so maybe it'll slide through without him really noticing. After all, he's just the big-shot who signs the final approval—someone else does the investigating. And secondly, you don't know how much Relena might have said to him. Maybe it's not as big a deal as you think."

"And if it is?"

"He's not the only one at the permit office. I'm sure we could talk to a different department head and ask for an impartial review—appeal it if he denies it."

"Do you know how rare it is to overturn a denial?"

"As rare as finding a gorgeous gay guy in a hick town in the hills?" Trowa quipped. He smirked at his friend. "Ask him out—," he hissed in a teasingly suggestive whisper.

Heero finally cracked a smile. "You have such a one-track mind. Give it up, Barton!"

"Never."

Trowa shuffled the papers a bit, pulling out the second sheet. "Anyhow, Zechs Merquise aside, Catherine's going to help us with the delivery of the papers and stuff—get the recommendations lined up. She suggested that in the meantime, we should probably concentrate on the local zoning issues."

"Well, with nearly two hundred acres, there can't be that many limitations on what you can do with the land—," Heero pointed out.

"True. But we'll need to take into consideration the space and fencing requirements for each species we'll be handling. It sure as hell wouldn't do for us to have an escape, considering what we're dealing with."

"That's more an issue for the permit, isn't it? We'll have to have federal inspectors approve the containment and housing." Heero frowned, looking at the pile of papers. "It might not hurt to check into insurance coverage, too."

The two men settled down to more of Trowa's list-making, marking down the order in which forms would need to be filed, and what tasks would have to be done before anyone came to look over the facility.

Their consensus was that when it came right down to it, as long as they weren't violating any local zoning ordinances, there was no reason to advertise their activities around town.

As Heero pointed out, the Barton clan was known for being secretive and antisocial. When he posted a slew of new "no trespassing" signs, he figured the locals would assume the new resident was no different. He just hoped it discouraged trespassers, rather than making them take it as a challenge.

"Guess we'll find out," Trowa said with a shrug. He gave his roommate a quick head-to-toe glance then, and shook his head. "You look beat—."

"Who me? Let's see—up half of last night hunting for Thor, and then taking care of him—up at dawn to start calling vets—the four hours of driving, along with a couple at the office—capped off with a near-brawl at the convenience store." Heero rolled his eyes. "Yeah, you could say I'm a bit tired."

"Go to bed, then," Trowa suggested. "I wanna go on-line and look up some more data for animal housing. And as slow as it is, with the fucked-up dial-up here, it could take awhile. I'll take Thor out on the leash for a last piddle when I'm done, okay? And Balder, too."

"Thanks," Heero said simply, not even arguing about how Trowa would manage the dogs and the crutches. He knew his friend would figure it out.

Trowa waited just until Heero disappeared around the corner, and then headed for the computer, pulling out his credit card as he did so. He'd just had a flash of inspiration. If Heero was going to be stubborn about approaching the cute mailman, well, maybe Trowa could encourage Duo to make the first move.

And how would he do that? Well—sending a clue would be a good start.

He logged onto the internet, tapping his fingers restlessly on the desk, and cursing the lack of cable in their remote location. He'd have to look into getting a satellite dish, which would at least allow somewhat faster connections. But meanwhile, stuck with old-fashioned dial-up service, all he could do was wait for the page to slowly load, and then smirk triumphantly.

"Yes—let's see. Keywords: magazines, gay lifestyle."

He was rewarded with a massive list of potential publications, and his grin spread as he took out a subscription in the name Heero Yuy.


	16. Meeting Again

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, bigotry, swearing, some OOC

Pairings: 1X2 eventually, 3X4 also eventually

A/N: Finally, some niceness. I promise, they'll get somewhere with this eventually! All of 'em!

SMOKY HILLS

_"While out hunting the other day, I stumbled across a fresh puma kill, and the killer itself. I've never seen such an intimidating creature. He was all lean muscle, coiled like a spring, and looked every bit as deadly as they are known to be. Thinking to rid myself of one more predator on my stock, I raised my rifle. But he neither flinched, nor broke eye contact. It was uncanny how fearless he seemed. When I hesitated, he moved so quickly the eye could barely follow, simply slipping away into the early morning shadows like a wraith. I blinked and looked again, wondering if I'd really seen him at all, because his disappearance was so swift and complete…"_

—_excerpt from the private journal of Ephraim Barton_

Chapter Sixteen: Meeting Again

It had been nearly a week since his altercation with Otto and Trant, and Duo had all but forgotten the unpleasantness—until he encountered Heero in the grocery store. Quatre had gone to the deli section to wait in line and get sandwich meat, while Duo was picking out a few frozen dinners for those nights neither of them felt like cooking or paying the price of takeout.

"Those are filled with sodium," a quiet voice at Duo's elbow pointed out.

He turned sharply, nearly dropping the two meals he'd been comparing. "Oh! Mister Yuy. I didn't hear you behind me."

"Sorry I startled you," Heero said with a small smile. "And call me Heero."

Duo smiled back. "Okay." He held his breath, recalling their last encounter and searching the blue eyes for any signs of disgust or condemnation, but there were none.

"Now, to get back to the subject at hand," Heero continued, nodding to the frozen dinners. "The fat content and sodium in those things is practically lethal."

Duo eyed the boxes warily, and then looked back at the Japanese man with a mischievous sparkle in his eyes. "But they taste so good!"

Heero opened his mouth to disagree, but Duo continued on before he could. "And they're convenient. Five minutes from freezer to table." He pointed out that very phrase on one of the boxes. And then he gave an impish grin. "Quat and I don't eat 'em very often," he assured Heero. "They're kind of for emergencies—like when we're too lazy to cook and too tired to go out."

"Quat?"

"My boss—and housemate," Duo explained. "You met him—the day you came into the office." He decided not to bring up the reason Heero had come to the office.

"Oh yes, Postmaster Winner." Heero frowned a little as he let the last name really sink in. "He's not related to _the _Winner family—?"

"Yes, he is," Duo told him. "But I wouldn't bring that up in conversation, if I were you. His family—. Well, let's just say they're not particularly close these days."

"Ah." Heero wanted to ask, but decided it wasn't really his business anyway.

"So, um, about the other day—."

Heero looked sharply at him, and his gaze slid up to the bruising around Duo's eye and the healing cut. "Did _they _do that to you?" he demanded, half-reaching to touch the injury, before catching himself and lowering his hand. "I didn't see that happen. When—?"

Duo shook his head. "No. That happened after. I had a little—accident on the way home." He gave a small shrug. "I just wanted to say thanks for helping me out."

"You already thanked me," Heero reminded him.

"Yeah, but you could've gotten hurt, and I appreciate you stepping in."

"First off, I wouldn't have been injured," Heero insisted. "Believe me; I know how to handle their type. And secondly, it was no problem. I was happy to be able to return a favor."

"Well, I was happy about that too," Duo told him frankly.

Then both were a bit lost for conversation, and Duo shifted restlessly, putting back one of the frozen dinners and dropping the other into his basket.

"I should—," Heero began, intending to say something about needing to finish shopping and get back home to Trowa.

"Hey, how's Thor?"

"Good!" Heero replied a bit too quickly, pouncing on the excuse to keep talking. "Trowa's going to take the stitches out in a couple of days, and the big beast will be good as new."

"I'm glad," Duo said warmly, shifting his basket a little so it wasn't between them. "And how's Trowa?"

"He's good too," Heero answered. "He gets to take the knee brace off for a few hours each day, as long as he uses the crutches to prevent any sudden stress."

"How long until he's a hundred percent?"

"It'll be another couple of weeks until he's allowed to walk without the crutches. But from then on, it's supposed to go fast." Heero smiled fondly. "Good thing, too, 'cause he's not a very patient patient." He grimaced at the awkward wording, but decided it was worth it when Duo laughed aloud.

"Good one!"

Heero glanced down at the tiles under their feet, feeling a trace of heat on his cheeks.

"Will ya tell him I said 'hi'?" Duo asked.

"Of course." Heero looked back up, trying to read the expression on the mailman's face. "I'm sure he'll be happy to hear from you. He was very grateful for your help with the trunk."

"Aw, that," Duo said with a dismissive wave of a hand. "No problemo. Took me all of five minutes, and it made him so happy!" He grinned at the memory. "Is he still reading the journals?"

"Yes—although some of them had a bit of water damage, and others have faded a lot with age. He's a bit frustrated, afraid there'll be parts he never gets to finish."

Duo cocked his head to one side. "Hey, maybe Quat could help him out. He's kind of a history buff—and he does a bit of document restoration at the local library. Want me to ask if he'd take a look at them?"

"I don't know," Heero began, thinking of how possessive Trowa was with the fragile old journals. "Why don't I run it by Trowa and see what he says?"

"Sounds good. You know where to find Quatre anyway. I'll give him a heads up that maybe your good-looking roommate will be stopping by with a restoration project or two."

Heero gave him a sharp look, and Duo ran back through what he'd just said to figure out where he'd gone wrong.

_Oh._

"Oops! I didn't mean anything by that—," he sputtered, blushing and looking studiously down at his feet.

"It's okay," came an amused reply. "He _is _good-looking. No reason you can't say so."

Breathing a quick sigh of relief, Duo dared to look back up into the blue eyes, which were glimmering with mirth. "Sometimes," he said carefully. "I talk without thinking."

"No shit?" Heero said with a grin.

They both laughed then, relaxing appreciably, and then turning when a voice hailed them.

"Duo? Who—oh! Hi, Mister Yuy." Quatre walked up to them, smiling in greeting. "Nice to see you."

"You, too," Heero replied.

Again there was a brief, awkward hitch in the conversation, and then Duo took over.

"Heero was just pointing out that frozen dinners aren't the healthiest meal choice," he said with a grin. "And we got to talking about Thor."

Quatre nodded. "I hope he's recovering okay."

"He's fine," Heero said firmly. "But I should probably get going so I can take him for his afternoon run." He gave a sheepish smile. "If I don't exercise him enough, he has an unfortunate tendency to try to slip off on his own."

"You run with him?" Quatre asked.

"Morning and evening, if I have the time," Heero said. "Otherwise, whenever I can squeeze it in."

"You must be very fit, considering the size of the dog Duo described to me."

Heero chuckled. "He's not easy to keep up with," he admitted. "Those long legs." He smiled at Duo, and for an instant there was no one else in the whole store. "Nice talking to you. I'll pass your greeting along to Trowa."

"Yeah, and give Thor a pat, too."

"I will."

With a brief nod to Quatre, Heero headed off to finish his shopping.

Duo waited until he'd rounded a corner and turned a glare on Quatre. "He must be very _fit_?" he demanded. "What was _that _about?"

"I was just making conversation!"

"You were flirting!"

"Duo Maxwell, I did no such thing!"

"Yes, you did. You commented on his physical attributes. That's flirting."

"Get real. I just meant that if he goes running twice a day with an Irish Wolfhound, he must be in great shape."

"Oh? Now he's in great shape?" Duo's scowl deepened. "Jesus—why don't you just take out an ad? Hot, blue-eyed Japanese guy with stamina wanted for all-night sex!"

Quatre's eyes widened, and he glanced around to be sure they were alone in the frozen food section. "Shhh!" he hissed. "There's no need for jealousy, Duo. It was pretty obvious who had his attention. I was just making small talk so he'd stick around a little longer to ogle you."

"To—what?"

Quatre rolled his eyes. "Ogle you. Did you not _see_ it?"

Duo snorted skeptically. "We were just talking, Quat. There was no ogling going on." He ducked his head and blushed a little. "At least not on _his _part."

"Pu-leeze! Yes there was."

Indigo eyes leveled a glare on the postmaster. "Look—I was just glad he was talking to me at all. After that scene at Howie's, and the way Hilde shot off her mouth, I figured he wouldn't want to be in the same store with me."

"Let alone 'making cozy' in the frozen foods," Quatre teased, his aquamarine eyes sparkling.

"Quat!"

The blonde laughed, tugging at Duo's sleeve. "C'mon. I want you to help me pick out dessert. I passed a cheesecake on the way over here, that looked scrumptious. And while I know you were far more interested in the _beefcake_—."

Duo punched him in the arm as they walked. "Asshole."

"Oblivious."

"Delusional."

Their joking insults continued, fading in volume as they made their way to the bakery section.

They didn't see Heero again in the grocery store, and while Quatre loaded the food into the Jeep to take home, Duo set off on foot for the auto parts store to get some touch-up paint to finish the door repair.

Mister Gunderson had given him a break on the price for un-wedging the door and tapping out the crease the tree had left, as long as Duo did his own finishing work. So the mailman had spent a weekend sanding and priming the damaged area, and just needed to match the color to spray on a coat of actual paint.

He wasn't paying much attention as he walked into the store, but stiffened when he saw Otto shuffling through windshield wiper replacements.

"Shit. They let anybody in here," he muttered, his good mood fading swiftly away.

Otto looked up and scowled. But when his gaze fixed on the bruised side of Duo's face, a satisfied smirk curled one side of his mouth. "Have an accident, did you?"

Duo walked closer, glancing around to be sure that Trant wasn't in the store, and he lowered his voice to a quiet snarl. "I oughta make you pay for the repairs to my Jeep, you fucking asshole."

"What?" Otto said innocently. "Can't take a little game of tag, Maxwell? We used to play it all the time."

"You an' Solo did," Duo reminded him. "I was just a passenger back then. And no, I never saw the point." His eyes narrowed. "But that's not what I really want to talk about. Stay the fuck away from Hilde."

The other man stiffened, turning to face him with a glare; but at the same time, a trace of pink tinged his cheeks. "What's it to you, queer?"

"She's my friend," Duo reminded him. "And aside from the fact that she is _way _too good for you, she's not going to give you the time of day as long as you keep messing up the store and fucking with me in front of her."

"Don't mention you, me, and fucking in the same sentence," Otto snapped.

"Why not? Trant did. What was it he said—?"

"That was just bullshit an' you know it." Otto rubbed his hands on the thighs of his jeans as if to clean off something repugnant. "I wouldn't touch you if you dressed up in high heels and curled your freakin' hair. You're disgusting."

Duo smirked nastily. "Been fantasizing about me again?"

"As if—!" Otto made a face at the very thought. "Look, if I wanna see Hilde, it's none of your goddamned business, ya fag. Stay out of my way."

"Not likely." Duo shook his head, suddenly weary of the posturing. "You just don't get it, Otto. And you never will. You're so used to following Trant's lead that you don't even know how to act human any more. Whatever he's got up his ass when it comes to me, it shouldn't be your problem. You wanna get on Hilde's good side? Leave me alone, get rid of your fucked-up sidekick, and work on developing a fuckin' personality. _Then _you might have a chance to at least get her to talk to you."

"She'll talk to me," Otto said defensively. "Sometimes she does."

"Let me guess—when Trant's not around?" Duo shook his head. "The guy's toxic, Otto. And frankly, so are you. There might've been a point where you had a chance to go your own way, but you didn't take it. You chose to stick with the crowd you sank into during high school—Trant's crowd. Buncha fuckin' losers—."

"As opposed to _your _crowd? A crowd of _one_?" Otto sneered derisively. "Thanks, but at least I _have _friends. Friends who aren't queer, geriatric, or a different species." He mustered up a cocky grin. "Seen any interesting wildlife lately, have you? Maybe another mountain lion? Bigfoot, maybe?" He threw back his head and let out a mocking laugh. "Nice chatting with ya, Maxwell. Go round up the Loch Ness monster, why don't you?"

Duo's face heated at the familiar taunt, and he brushed past Otto and headed for the paint section, aware of several amused glances following him after other shoppers overheard the bully's loud ridicule.

There was nothing he hated more than being reminded of how isolated he was, and in how many ways. But then, as one of his longest-standing enemies, Otto knew that very well. He and Trant had done more than their share to create and maintain that isolation.

_Yeah, but a lot of it was also self-inflicted, Duo reflected bitterly. If he'd never mentioned the mountain lion—there'd be that many fewer people laughing behind his back—or right to his face. Bad enough they knew he was gay—but there were at least a few who also considered him a bit melodramatic—if not outright delusional. And that stung just as much._

"Fixing up the Jeep?" asked the man behind the counter, as Duo placed the can of spray point on it.

"Yeah. Doing a little touching up."

"Remember a lotta light coats work better than one or two heavy ones." Victor caught his eye, and gave him a reassuring look and a small nod of encouragement.

Duo managed a smile for him, grateful for at least one ally in the place. "Thanks for the tip. I'll keep it in mind."

He paid for the paint and got out of the store without so much as looking in Otto's direction again, and set a brisk pace back to the grocery store parking lot, where Quatre would be waiting.


	17. Fetching Trouble

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing, bigotry, some OOC

Pairings: 1X2 eventually, 3X4 also eventually

A/N: And it begins...

SMOKY HILLS

_"There's been an accident_—_one so troubling I dare not even write it down. At least, not yet. Some secrets should never see the light of day, but remain hidden, lest they destroy all who behold them. But our small community has been struck by the loss of one of its own, in a most tragic and untimely way…"_

—_excerpt from the private journal of Ephraim Barton_

Chapter Seventeen: Fetching Trouble

With a full schedule of filling out forms and applications, taking Trowa to physical therapy three times a week, and slowly cleaning out the upstairs bedrooms and making them livable, Heero had little time over the next couple of weeks for running with the dogs.

It was just as well. Thor's foot had healed nicely after a few days of rest, and Trowa removed the stitches and declared him fit as a fiddle again. But while the dog had been convalescing, Trowa had recovered enough use of his knee that he could help Heero put up some fencing in the back yard to contain the two dogs.

It made mornings a bit easier, since the dogs could be let out to pee by themselves, while the two men made breakfast and planned their day's activities.

"—after we get back, I'd like to move my stuff to one of the upstairs bedrooms," Heero was saying.

Trowa gave him a surprised look. "You don't _like _bunking with me?" he chided.

"Of course I do," came a mildly amused reply. "Reminds me of clown school, back when we were kids."

Trowa rolled his eyes. "Ugh! Don't remind me! If I never have to glob on face paint again, it'll be too soon. That's why I became an acrobat! Less makeup."

"Fancier clothes," Heero teased. "You liked the tights."

Trowa smacked him with a spatula, and went back to scrambling eggs.

"I'm moving upstairs for two reasons," Heero went on. "First off, your leg has recovered enough that I don't feel I need to be in the same room to help you if you need to get up for anything during the night."

"And—?"

"And secondly, it'll give you a break from being woken up so often."

Trowa scowled at him. "That's not a bother," he insisted.

"Maybe not to you—."

"Heero, I don't like the idea of you having one of your nightmares and waking up alone." The green eyes softened with concern. "And don't tell me they've subsided, because I _know _how often you wake up gasping for breath, in a cold sweat—."

"Okay!" Heero said sharply. "I get the picture. I know how I am when I wake up. You don't need to remind me."

"It's just—I want to be there for you."

"You have been." Heero shrugged, pouring their coffee and setting it on the table by the plates. "But sooner or later I have to deal with this on my own."

"Have you been taking your sleeping pills?" Trowa asked tartly, knowing full well that there were too many left in the prescription bottle.

"Sometimes," Heero hedged. "But they make me groggy, and like I said, if you needed help during the night—."

"Well I don't any more. Take the damned pills!"

Heero frowned at him. "You know I hate medications."

"Sometimes you need them." Trowa pulled his own bottle out of a shirt pocket. "Like me. I wouldn't have made it through the injury, the surgery, or these past few weeks without some kind of pain relief. And as glad as I'll be when I can stop refilling this damned bottle, I understand that the meds have helped me a lot."

"At least you can see an end in sight," Heero pointed out. "My psychiatrist said it could be years—." He stopped, closing his eyes in frustration, and then opening them and fixing an almost pleading look on Trowa. "Just, stop pushing, please. If I want to try sleeping without the pills, I will. I exercise all day. Between running and working around this place, most nights I fall right to sleep as soon as I hit the pillow."

"And then wake up three hours later—."

"Not always." Heero scowled in warning. "I'm going to do this my way, Trowa."

His roommate nodded. "I know that. Stubborn as ever." He dished up their breakfast and handed over the plates before following Heero to the table to eat.

Right after breakfast, they brought the dogs in, and loaded themselves in the car to go to the physical therapist's office, which was about an hour away. It seemed nothing was in close proximity to Smoky Hills. The place was, as Heero continued to observe, like a little bubble of time that the rest of the world had bypassed.

They drove past the post office on their way out, and Heero's glance was drawn to the now-familiar Jeep.

"Soooo—," Trowa drawled carefully, noticing the look. "Maybe we should stop and get some stamps or something."

"Nice try."

"What 'try?' I was just making a plain old suggestion." Green eyes widened in all innocence.

"I've got a suggestion for you," Heero said darkly. "When we get home, you gather up all those letters from Relena that you haven't thrown out like I asked, and _you _take them to the post office."

"I can't drive yet," Trowa said, patting his weak knee.

"I'll drive you. And you can go inside and visit with Duo to your heart's content."

"Duo, huh? When did he become Duo?" Trowa asked, deftly putting the ball back in Heero's court.

A faint blush crept up Heero's cheek. "I bumped into him in the grocery store awhile ago. I told you that. We talked for a few minutes."

"And yet you _still _haven't taken the plunge—."

"Look, Trowa, it's pretty obvious the guy has issues with some of the lower life forms in this town. Do you really think he needs a dysfunctional boyfriend on top of that?"

"You aren't dysfunctional."

"Yes, I am. Just ask my therapist."

Trowa didn't bother to carry on the age-old argument. He pulled out the journal he was currently reading, and pointedly opened it as if to deliberately distance himself from his partner.

"That reminds me. Duo said his boss at the post office knows a bit about document restoration," Heero spoke up, nodding towards the leather-bound book.

Trowa peeked up over the edge. "Really?"

"Yes. And you'll never guess who the postmaster is related to."

Trowa raised an eyebrow curiously, and when Heero didn't elaborate, he sighed loudly. "Well?"

"The Winner family."

"No shit?"

Heero shook his head. "His name's Quatre Winner, of _the _Winner family. Although, I was also told he's not on the best of terms with them."

"Really?"

"Really." Heero frowned slightly, as if thinking of something else. "I wonder why."

"Well if he's gay, like you said—."

"I don't know that for sure," Heero said quickly.

"Yeah, but you thought he might be, that first time you went to the post office. Maybe you were right. I can't imagine the head of Winner Industries would like the kind of publicity having a gay son would cause."

"You sound disturbingly like the bigots in this town," Heero warned.

"I'm not saying I agree!" Trowa retorted. "Just that there's still a public bias against homosexuals—pretty much anywhere you go."

"Well, it might account for how the son of the richest man in the country ended up working in a two-person post office in the middle of nowhere," Heero conceded. "Last I heard, he was off in some exclusive law school."

"Reading tabloids again?" teased his roommate.

"It was a snippet in the Wall Street Journal," came a dry response. "Years ago. Frankly, I'd all but forgotten Winner _had _a son, since all the recent corporate news has focused on the big man himself, and his board of directors. I guess I just assumed his son was in there somewhere, or off jetting around in Europe or something."

"Guess not," Trowa shrugged. "So—are we gonna stop for lunch on the way back? I'm really dying for someone else's cooking—."

"God," sighed Heero. "Fine. We'll stop. Anyplace but McDonalds."

* * *

They ended up at a small diner halfway between the therapist's office and home, though by that time Trowa was so worn out from the exercises he'd been put through that they got their food "to go," and ate in the car.

The green-eyed man was half-dozing in his seat by the time they got home, and leaning heavily on his crutches on the way in.

"Go lie down for an hour, why don't you?" Heero suggested to Trowa, while he was opening the door to let Thor and Balder out into the back yard. "I'll wake you for supper."

Trowa would have argued, but he was honestly too tired to bother. The workout program that the physical therapist put him through taxed his muscles and endurance to their limit. Most days the ride home was enough rest for him, but this had been the first day of a new set of strengthening exercises for his knee, and he was particularly spent.

"Sounds good," he yawned. "But don't work too hard while I rest."

"Who, me? Never!"

Heero waited until his roommate hobbled down the hallway to his room, and then chopped up some chicken and vegetables for an easy stir-fry dinner, threw some laundry into the wash, and finally headed upstairs to finish preparing the bedroom he planned to move into that night.

It was a small, cozy room, on the shady side of the house, away from the driveway and any possible disturbances. He hoped that the solitude and silence would help him get back into something resembling normal sleep patterns.

They'd managed to salvage a couple of braided rugs, that had only minimal rodent damage, and after several days of airing them out on the line, Heero had picked one with muted greens and blues to cover the cold wooden floor of his chosen room.

He'd given the faded walls a nice coat of medium blue paint, and hung the only picture he'd brought from his old apartment—a print of one of Katsushika Hokusai's wave paintings. For some reason, he found the image both pleasing, and soothing.

The dresser was one they'd found at a tag sale for twenty bucks, and it was coincidentally a shade of green that brought out the color in the rug. And since Heero had a dark blue comforter, the whole room came together nicely. It already felt like a space of his own, and despite Trowa's concerns about him sleeping alone, Heero hoped for restful nights there.

He'd already carried a chair up to the room, and figured if he just hung a mirror, and vacuumed out the fireplace, it would be ready to inhabit.

Of course, as usual with his best-laid plans, the project multiplied as he went. Vacuuming the fireplace turned into scrubbing it with a brush, and then inspecting the flue with a flashlight, to be sure nothing was nesting above the damper.

And by the time Heero finished that, and washed the soot from his hands and most of his face, it was almost dusk, and time to make dinner.

He clattered down the stairs, and knocked on Trowa's door. "Time to wake up, sleepyhead! I'm going to let the dogs in and start supper."

He heard a muffled reply, and continued on his way to the kitchen, opening the door to the fenced-in area. "Thor! Balder! C'mon boys."

He was greeted by an empty yard.

"What the—?" He blinked in disbelief, and looked again, as if the two huge hounds would suddenly materialize right before him.

Then his eyes lit on a pile of dirt and a big hole under a corner of the fence, and he muttered an expletive.

"Wha's up?" came a sleepy voice from behind him. Trowa had hobbled up using just one crutch.

Heero just gestured wordlessly, not trusting his voice.

"They—got out?"

"Yes!" he snapped, grabbing a leash off the hook on the wall, and heading for the front door.

But when he opened it, both dogs were sprawled comfortably on the front porch, looking up from under their bushy eyebrows with expressions of canine innocence.

"You! You—!" he sputtered, his grip on the door white-knuckled.

"Calm down," laughed Trowa, having once again hobbled along in his wake. "They're home and they're obviously okay. Just let 'em in and worry about yelling at them some other time."

Heero just turned and stalked back towards the kitchen, tossing the leash aside and fixing his attention on something that couldn't run away at inconvenient moments—like dinner.

He faintly heard his roommate talking to the dogs in a highly amused tone, and then he heard the padding of large paws and the clink of toenails on wood.

He pulled out the frying pan and set it on the stove, and turned to get the food out of the refrigerator.

When he did, he happened to notice Thor gnawing on something. "What have _you _got?" he demanded, glaring at the dog, who immediately stood up and began walking towards him with its prize clutched in massive jaws.

"Thor—put that down!" Heero scolded. The big wolfhound dropped the object it was carrying, and it fell to the floor with a clatter.

"What the hell is it?" Trowa asked, walking over to examine the dingy brown object.

"Probably a stick," replied the Japanese man, turning back to the skillet.

"Didn't sound like one." Trowa bent over and poked at the long, straight object and frowned, picking it up between two fingers. "Heero—it's not a stick."

"Hn," came the disinterested response.

"I think it's a bone."

Heero glanced over a shoulder. "It's filthy then. He must've dug it up somewhere. Throw the thing away before he makes himself sick."

"Must be a cow bone or something," Trowa concluded, eyeing the length and thickness with a frown.

"We're on a farm. That's very likely."

Trowa grimaced. "You'd think if they buried a cow out here, the coyotes or other scavengers would've taken care of it." He set the dirt-encrusted object on the counter, going after some newspaper to roll it up in before putting it in the trash.

While he was shuffling through the recycling for paper, Heero walked past to toss the wrapper from the meat into the garbage, and stopped when his gaze fell on the bone.

"Trowa, wait."

The recovering acrobat paused in the act of reaching for the bone. "Wait for what?" he chided. "You said it yourself—it's filthy. I don't wanna leave it cluttering up the counter—."

"It's not a cow bone," Heero said flatly, a slightly sick look on his face. "It's human."

Trowa did a double take, looking warily at the thing. "Are you sure—?"

"I worked homicide for five years. Yes, I'm sure."

Trowa looked over at Thor, who was sulking in the corner after losing his favorite new toy. "Where d'you suppose he got it?" The green eyes widened. "Oh shit; you don't think he's been digging in a cemetery around here—?"

Heero shook his head, staring closely at the bone. "Unlikely. The cemeteries around here are ancient. I'm pretty sure any bones would be far more deteriorated than this." He glanced up with a frown. "And the modern cemeteries—the bodies are in sturdy coffins, and buried too deep for something like a stray dog to dig them up." His frown deepened. "This is something different."

Trowa's gaze snapped up to Heero's face. "What are you saying, Yuy?"

"I'm saying that whatever body this came from was probably buried in a shallow grave without benefit of a coffin—which suggests—."

"A murder?" Trowa finished for him.

Heero nodded.

"You can't be serious!" Trowa blurted. "I know you were a cop, Heero. But that's in the past—in Sanc; you can't be seeing a crime around every corner any more."

"I'm not." Heero looked up at him with a very serious expression. "Believe me, Trowa. I want to put that life behind me. I'm the very _last _person who wants to turn up a dead body out here in the middle of nowhere. Honest." He looked once more at the dingy, gnawed length of bone on the counter. "But this is a human bone, and there's no innocent explanation for it ending up in Thor's mouth."

"Shit." Trowa looked over at the big dog, who'd given up his pout and settled down for a nap. "What do we do?"

"Well, it's a bit dark to go out tonight to try to see where Thor found this—but I suppose I could take a stab at it in the morning."

"If only we knew where the original Dekim's father kept his still—," Trowa mused, his mind beginning to race with possibilities.

"His _what_?"

"His _still_. It's mentioned briefly in one of the later journals—something about Dekim's dad making moonshine out in the hills."

"And what would that have to do with Thor finding a bone?"

"Well—maybe someone went snooping."

"Are you suggesting your ancestor murdered someone on the property and stashed the body?" Heero asked in horror.

Trowa shrugged, looking a little troubled. "Times were different back then—with Prohibition and all. You never know."

"Did he say that in the journal?"

"Well, no. That particular journal has some water damage, and I only got to read a few pages. I think it was my grandfather's, and he was writing about _his _father—but I can't be sure."

"Then stop jumping to the conclusion that you had a homicidal great-grandfather, would you?" Heero said in exasperation.

"How else would you explain the bone Thor found?"

"I wouldn't. I'd leave that up to the local police," Heero replied. "First thing in the morning, I'll look for the rest of the remains. And if I don't find them, I'll just take this bone down to the police station and let them handle it."

"You think the cops in this hick town will have the resources for a case like this?" Trowa asked skeptically.

"Depends," Heero shrugged. "If they have anyone serious on the force, they'll be responsible enough to call for assistance if they need it. At the very least, they'll need the help of a forensic lab. I'm sure the State has one."

"Just what we need—people traipsing all over the property looking for clues," Trowa said with a frown. "Heero—."

"We don't even know that Thor was on our property when he dug up the bone," Heero pointed out. "And I'll tell that to the police. The most they might do is ask us to show them where I take the dogs running, since that's part of Thor's normal range."

"And if they want to look in the barn?"

"We'll deal with it," Heero said firmly. "Don't worry about things that may not happen, Trowa. Let's just take it a step at a time, okay?"

The auburn-haired man gave a wry smile. "Like my knee, eh? One step at a time."

"Yes, just like that."


	18. Bone of Contention

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing, bigotry, some OOC

Pairings: 1X2 eventually, 3X4 also eventually

A/N: Finally, the long-awaited meeting between Quatre and Trowa! Hope it lives up to expectations. And some day, the blonde in Trowa's past _will _be explained, I promise.

SMOKY HILLS

_"The rumors surrounding his death are many, though none come close to the truth, thank the Lord. Everyone believes it to be an accident; and indeed, it was_—_just not the kind they imagine. But there is no way to undo the past, and no reason to destroy the future in trying to do so. Still_—_for my part in concealing the facts, I will surely burn in Hell…"_

—_excerpt from the private journal of Ephraim Barton_

Chapter Eighteen: Bone of Contention

Naturally, Heero had no luck locating the place Thor had unearthed his find. It clearly wasn't within the immediate surroundings. The Japanese man had gone step by step in a meticulous pattern throughout the barnyard and the forest nearest the house, with Thor on a leash—hoping the dog would head back to the place he'd found such interesting stuff.

And finally, when that proved fruitless, he left Trowa with a list of sit-down activities to keep him occupied, promised to be back before lunch, and headed downtown.

Heero found a bored-looking cop seated at the desk in the tiny, local police department, idly pushing papers around. "Good morning," he said politely.

The officer looked up and gave a smile. "What can I do for you?"

"I need to report a crime, and turn over some evidence," Heero said evenly.

"Okay." The officer dug around on his desk and came up with a form, placing it in front of Heero and setting a pen beside it. "If you could fill out this form—."

"Certainly." Heero set down the paper bag containing the bone Thor had brought home, and began filling in the blanks in the form.

"What sort of crime?" asked the policeman, half of his attention on Heero and half on a television screen across the room, where a replay of a baseball game was being broadcast.

"Murder."

The cop nearly went over backwards in his wobbly office chair, turning a shocked expression on the Japanese man. "Murder? When? Where? What're you doing filling out a stupid form when someone's been killed?" He stood up, reaching for the jacket over the back of his seat. "Take me to the scene!"

Heero looked up calmly. "I would if I could."

The officer paused, frowning at him. "What do you mean? You said there's been a murder. You must know _where_."

"No, actually, I don't." Heero picked up the bag and set it on the desk. "You see, my dog brought home a human bone. While that indicates a victim, it doesn't help with the location of the body."

Officer Kurt, as his badge said, gaped at Heero and then reached to pull the bone out of the paper bag. He studied it for a moment, and then dropped it back in, shaking his head. "Sorry to burst your bubble, but I think you got excited over nothing. It's probably a cow bone. There used to be a lotta farms around here, and when a cow died, they usually just put the carcass out back for the coyotes, or bulldozed it into a convenient gully." He gave a patient smile. "Dogs dig them things up all the time."

Heero's eyes narrowed. "I considered that before I reached the conclusion I did," he said firmly. "But this is definitely a human bone. My guess is it's a femur or tibia, though with the amount of decay and chewing, it will take a forensic professional to positively identify it."

The cop snorted derisively. "What're you—a doctor or something?"

"No. But I know the difference between human and animal bones. That is too long and slender to be part of a cow; their bones are thicker and flatter. I considered it might be a deer. But again, the dimensions and shape are off. I'm quite certain it's human."

The officer picked up the bag and gave the bone a longer look, before shaking his head. "Look, Mister—?"

"Yuy. Heero Yuy. I live at the Barton place with Trowa Barton." Heero crossed his arms, glaring at the cop. "One of our dogs brought that bone home, and my guess would be that he found some remains that have finally surfaced after an indeterminate amount of time in either a shallow grave or some sort of makeshift burial site."

"An' how d'you know he didn't just get into one of the old cemeteries around here?"

Heero resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "That bone isn't two hundred years old. There's too much left of it." He resumed filling out the form the officer had given him. "Look, just do us both a favor and send the bone out to a lab for identification."

"They aren't going to be able to tell who it belonged to—."

"I meant that they could confirm that it's _human_. As far as matching it to a body, you'd have to locate the rest of the remains and see if there are dental records or DNA to confirm the identity."

"Watched one too many crime shows, didn't you?" scoffed the cop. "We haven't got a big-budget crime lab in a town this size, y'know. All I can do is send it to the State lab and hope they don't laugh their asses off when it turns out to be a horse or cow."

Heero frowned, turning to face the man again. "I suggest you send it to Doctor Chang at the Forensic Institute of Sanc. He won't laugh at you, no matter what his findings are, if you tell him Heero Yuy recommended him."

Once again, the officer gave a dubious shake of his head. "Have it your way. I'll send it to the Institute, but I can't promise anything. They don't generally deal with small-town departments like ours."

"That's why I suggest you use my name. I happen to know Chang, personally." Heero nearly grimaced as he said that, hoping the cop didn't read into the statement as much as really existed of their relationship.

"Okay. I'll play along," Officer Kurt agreed, still looking skeptical. "At least you gave me something to talk about at the coffee shop this afternoon."

And talk, he did. By that evening, everyone in Sally's Diner had heard about the nutcase resident out on Barton's farm, whose dog had dug up a cow bone he tried to pass off as human.

Duo had wandered in with Quatre, near the end of the conversation, and they exchanged a look when they heard the name Yuy being soundly ridiculed by their local off-duty officers, Ralph Kurt and Alex Brown, and anyone who'd listen and join in.

Duo shook his head. "Poor guy. I'd feel sorry for him, if he wasn't such an ass."

"Surely his _good-looking_ ass outweighs the fact that he acted like one at first," Quatre countered. "Besides, he did you that favor at Howie's."

The braided man shrugged, sipping his soda. "Let's just say, he was in the right place at the right time. Yeah, I guess he helped me out."

"I knew rescuing his dog was a good move," Quatre pointed out. "If you hadn't picked him up and taken him home, Mister Yuy might not have been so inclined to step in."

"I think he would've anyway," Duo disagreed. "He seemed like he didn't care for the bullying type." He smiled as Sally brought over his usual meal of chicken wings and French fries, and set a chef's salad in front of Quatre.

"Well that's good then," Quatre replied, ruining his wholesome meal by drizzling chunky blue cheese dressing all over it, and then stealing some of Duo's fries to add to the side. "At least we've got residents with a sense of fairness moving in."

"Won't matter," Duo shrugged, snagging a leaf of spinach to nibble on. "This town never changes. You can bring in all the nice guys and good Samaritans in the world, and it'll still be a backwater hick town run by old fogies who should've retired years ago. Dinosaurs."

"Hm. Maybe that's what Yuy's dog uncovered," Quatre joked. "A dinosaur bone."

Duo nearly snorted soda through his nose, coughing and trying to regain his composure. "Right!" he chuckled. "Barton's place will become the archaeologic find of the century."

"Archaeologi_cal_," Quatre corrected him automatically.

"You call it what you want, and I'll call it what I want," Duo retorted with a glare. He'd never liked it when his educated roommate showed off—even unintentionally.

Sally had come back to refill their glasses, and laughed along with the two of them. "Well, it's as sound a theory as thinking there's a human body buried somewhere out there."

"Actually, no," Duo countered. "Considering Old Man Barton and how much he hated 'them damn revenuers,' he might've buried a few bodies out there." He gave a dramatic shiver. "That man was seriously creepy."

"C'mon—you're not old enough to remember _that_ Mister Barton," she reminded him.

"No, but I heard stories. Howard's the same age as the first Dekim, and remembered his dad, Samuel. Said Dekim was just as paranoid and crazy, and Howard knew _him_ personally. Called him a complete freak. No wonder Dekim Junior ran off; I would've too."

"You just want to get out of this town. You always _have_," Sally pointed out.

Duo sobered. "Yeah, without much luck," he sighed.

Quatre frowned across at him. "Is it really still that bad? I mean, you've got friends, and a good job." He ducked his head and looked up through his blonde bangs. "And a really nice roommate."

Duo smiled, his expression softening. "I've got the _best_ roommate," he admitted. "And I guess I don't hate living here as much as I used to. But it still feels kind of like a dead end, yanno?"

"You're young," Sally said sagely. "You've got plenty of time to go chasing your dreams."

He rolled his eyes at her. "Thanks for the voice of experience, you Wise Old Woman."

"I believe the term is Wise Old Hag," Quatre said innocently.

Sally glared at him and put her hands on her hips. "See if I waste any words of wisdom on you two any more!"

Duo snickered nastily. "Now you sound like a fortune cookie, Sal."

"And you sound like an ass—as usual!" She whacked him lightly on the back of the head with her tray as she moved off to wait on other customers.

Quatre smirked at his friend. "She had a point. It's not like you've got one foot in the grave or anything. And aren't you still taking those on-line college courses?"

Duo nodded. "When I can squeeze 'em in. Still holding out hope, I guess—that maybe some day I can save up enough to go after a degree."

"That's a good plan," Quatre assured him.

They finished their meals with the usual idle chit-chat, listening to Ralph and Alex regale anyone who'd listen with the story of the bone found on Barton's place. It got old after about the third re-telling, and the two men were delighted to pay their tab and get out of the restaurant.

* * *

However, they continued to hear the prattle around town for the next several days, as word spread quickly, and the rumor of yet another crazy Barton family fired up imaginations.

"Okay—now I really _am _starting to feel sorry for him," Duo commented as he was stacking his mail trays one morning in preparation to head out on the route. "Mister Hendersen said the guy in the butcher shop actually walked up to Yuy, held out a bone and asked if he'd 'be so kind as to identify it.' Made a wisecrack about not wanting to inadvertently sell a human steak."

"Good lord! What a jackass," Quatre commiserated. "Can't people just keep their thoughts to themselves now and then? I may think Mister Yuy's mistaken; but I'd never laugh at him like that."

"Smoky Hills," Duo intoned snidely. "Home of gossip, bigotry, and lost causes." He shook his head. "I should know."

Quatre frowned, thinking of the times he'd teased Duo about the mountain lion sighting. "Duo?"

"Hm?"

"I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"All the times I've joked around about the mountain lion. You don't deserve that." He walked back so that he could look around the case at his employee. "I hadn't realized how—unkind it was."

Duo blinked at him in surprise. "Wasn't unkind," he shrugged. "You were just sayin' the same as everyone else—."

"That doesn't make it right." Quatre shook his head. "I just realized I'm no better than those people who are mocking Mister Yuy." He held out a hand. "Forgive me?"

"Jesus, Quat, of course!" Duo blurted, looking uncomfortable. "Yours was just good-natured teasing. I know you never meant to be mean—."

"Whether I meant it or not, I think I was." Quatre jiggled his hand, and Duo finally shook it.

"Forgiven," Duo said firmly. "Now would ya just drop it?"

"Yeah, I'll drop it," Quatre grinned. "But I promise, no more joking about that. If you say you saw something out there, I believe you did, and I'll back you up on it. Promise."

"You don't have to—."

"I think I do." Quatre sobered. "I think because I was an outsider that I sort of took your comments about people here with a grain of salt, figuring that growing up here had skewed your perspective a bit."

"Done _what_?" Duo asked with a frown.

"It made you biased—unable to be objective about people here, because you knew them too well. But—you're right. This is a harsh town, and some of the people are just mean. Not all of them. I don't think Mrs. Heinz would ever scoff at someone for believing something most folks don't. But—a lot of people would."

"Welcome to my world," Duo quipped back at him, shaking his head and picking up a tray. "I'm outta here, Quat. Wanna get the mail all out early so I can go home and finish weeding that little patch of dirt you call a garden."

"It is!"

"Watch me scoff," Duo grinned back.

"Hey!"

"I'm from Smoky Hills—whaddaya want—_tolerance_?"

Quatre scowled at him, though a smile twitched the corners of his mouth. "Just keep your mountain lion out of the rhubarb, okay?"

Duo chuckled back, relieved that Quatre would at least still joke about it. "He's not litter box trained, y'know. He might just use the whole thing for his personal potty."

"Oh, that's just gross!"

"Yup. I'm the king of gross," Duo replied cockily.

"Go be the king of rural delivery, why don't you?"

Quatre went back up to the window to wait on customers, while Duo loaded up the Jeep and got on the road.

It was perhaps an hour later and Quatre was seated at his desk doing paperwork, when he heard the little door chime jingle, and looked up to find himself staring into two of the greenest eyes he'd ever seen.

_Whoa! Duo hadn't been kidding…_

"Hi!" he said a bit breathlessly. "You must be Mister Barton."

The green eyes widened, and a faintly confused look crossed the handsome face. "How—?"

"Oh. Duo—." Quatre trailed off, realizing he couldn't very well tell him that the mailman had raved about the good-looking newcomer to town. He gave a weak smile. "It's a small town," he offered by way of explanation.

Trowa smiled back, and Quatre briefly wondered if he dared try to stand up from his desk. If his knees gave out and he landed flat on the floor, he thought he might die of embarrassment.

"So it is," Trowa conceded.

Quatre decided he'd have to take his chances with his suddenly-weak knees, and stood up and brushed his hands nervously down his thighs to smooth his slacks. "Can I help you with something?" he managed in his most professional voice, while walking carefully up to the counter.

"Actually, yes." Trowa laid several letters on the counter, fanned out to show they were all from the same sender—R. Darlian. "I'd like to refuse these."

The blonde frowned slightly, looking at the name "Heero Yuy" in flowing script on the envelopes. "I'm afraid only Mister Yuy can refuse mail addressed to him—."

Trowa ducked his head slightly, looking sheepish. "He's out in the car," he admitted. "I was the one who kept putting them aside, so he sort of tasked me with bringing them in here."

"Even with your injured knee?" Quatre asked in a horrified tone.

Trowa glanced down at the crutches he'd become so accustomed to using, and gave a little shrug. "I keep telling him I'm allowed to exercise the leg now—so I guess this is his way of calling my bluff." He smiled, and Quatre found the little wrinkles around his eyes just captivating. "Really, it does feel good to stretch the leg, especially when I've been sitting in the car awhile. And it's better than being left at home."

"I'm sure it is."

"Should I have Heero come in and—?"

"Oh, no! That won't be necessary." Quatre smiled warmly. "_I_ don't need to call your bluff."

They both chuckled at the little joke, and Quatre picked up the letters, glancing to be sure they hadn't been opened, and then grabbed a rubber stamp with "refused" printed across it.

"I can just mark them and send them on their way," he assured the man, using the stamp on each one.

"Is it possible to just have them returned without getting them in the first place?"

"Ah—no. I'm afraid by postal regulation we have to deliver them to you. But if it would be easier, you can just write refused on them yourself and place them back in the mailbox with the flag up. Duo will bring them back here and we'll send them out with the evening mail."

"Maybe we'll do that next time," Trowa replied.

"I take it the sender doesn't know your street address—?" Quatre asked, noticing the letters only had Heero's name and the town, state, and zip code on them.

"No!" came a quick, sharp response. "And we'd like to keep it that way!"

Quatre smiled reassuringly. "The post office never gives out that kind of information, Mister Barton. I can assure you, only a postal inspector or a police officer accompanied by one can squeeze that out of us."

They shared another brief laugh.

"Call me Trowa?" came a rather wistful request.

"Okay, Trowa—as long as you call me Quatre."

Trowa held out a hand. "Pleased to make your acquaintance, Quatre."

"Likewise."

The handshake lasted just a fraction longer than necessary, and they both blushed as they let go and Trowa stepped back. "I, uh—. Heero's waiting. I guess I should get going before he comes in here and tries to shove me back into the wheelchair."

"I hope your knee gets better soon," Quatre offered, nearly wincing at the lame attempt to prolong the conversation.

"Thanks." Trowa hobbled over to the door, turning to look back with another smile. "Um—tell Duo I said 'hi?'"

Quatre hated the little stab of jealousy that stung at his chest. "Oh, yes, of course," he replied politely.

Just as Trowa was heading out, another customer was coming in, and Quatre heard him make some comment about "Barton and Yuy's dinosaur bone" as he passed. And then Trowa was gone, and Mister Brewster was walking in.

Quatre gave him a perfectly icy smile, reminding himself that calling customers "gossip-mongering assholes" would be frowned upon.

Besides, he and Duo did their own share of gossiping—but at least they did it in private, just between themselves. They never openly mocked someone to their face the way Mister Brewster just had. He thought it was petty and mean-spirited—and not just because it was directed at the good-looking green-eyed man he could happily fantasize about the rest of the day. And night.

Okay—maybe he _did _hate it because it was directed at Trowa. But that didn't make it any less obnoxious.

"Can I help you, Mister Brewster?" he asked with forced civility, resisting the urge to run after Trowa and tell him not to pay any attention to nasty people like that man.

_Oh, he had it bad_—_already! Duo would have a field day with this._


	19. Vindication

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing, bigotry, some OOC

Pairings: 1X2 eventually, 3X4 also eventually

A/N: I took some liberties with the information gleaned from a single bone. Forensic people can determine someone's sex, but usually need a skull or pelvis for that. I couldn't track down specific data on whether DNA could be retrieved from bones and used to determine the sex of the person; but I think the technology exists, so I let Chang use it. Age can be _roughly_ determined from a leg bone, based on growth plates. So, just be aware that most of my forensic info was gleaned from watching CSI and Bones, and doing some internet research. I'm FAR from an expert on the subject, but I like to think I understand the basic concept.

SMOKY HILLS

_"Jacob has been brooding for days, despondent over the loss of his best friend, and his involvement. I fear that he'll do something drastic, either out of despair, or a sense of guilt. But it was an accident...simply a tragic turn of events. Young men, in the heat of passion, often act unwisely. And this was not the first time they'd come to blows over pretty Annabelle. Who could have known their argument would escalate to such a drastic end? But Jacob is all I have left__, and I will not let him ruin his life by confessing to the unintentional consequences of his actions__…"_

—_excerpt from the private journal of Ephraim Barton_

Chapter Nineteen: Vindication

Trowa got back in the car, and turned an accusing look on Heero. "You didn't _tell _me Quatre Winner was fucking gorgeous!"

Heero blinked at him, and then pursed his lips to keep from openly smirking. "Well, unlike _you_, I wouldn't try to shove anyone into a relationship by dangling a beautiful guy in front of them. I'd let them make their own observations."

Green eyes narrowed. "You made your own observations about the mailman. Thigh-length hair and an attitude—? He sounded exactly like your kind of guy."

"And why would that be?"

"Hm…let's see. Your last boyfriend wore a ponytail and had an attitude the size of the continental U.S."

Heero's eyes narrowed in turn. "And that turned out _ever _so well, didn't it? Don't you think I might be looking for something different this time?"

"You aren't even looking!"

"Why should I be? You keep doing it _for _me!"

"Well you might've returned the favor and clued me in about that blonde angel in there a bit sooner!"

Heero stopped, and then suddenly burst out laughing. "Are you really bitching me out because I didn't drag you to the post office sooner? Seriously?"

"Yes! And to add insult to injury, you let me wear _this _stupid thing!" Trowa blurted, tugging at his tee shirt, an old, faded favorite, with "clowns taste funny" across the front.

Heero's laughter redoubled. "Your physical therapist thought it was hilarious."

"Yes, but _she _wasn't a blonde-haired angel I wanted to make a good impression on."

"You didn't care what impression you made until you saw him," Heero pointed out. "And if you recall, after I'd gone to the post office to complain, I did mention there was an attractive blonde postmaster."

"That was an understatement."

"You thought my description of _Duo_ was an understatement."

"Notice a pattern, do you?" came a tart response.

"Yes. You're easily impressed."

"And you're—impossible!"

"Oh, touché," Heero said dryly.

When they got home shortly thereafter, Trowa immediately hobbled off to do laundry, while Heero resumed working on the upstairs bedrooms, figuring that eventually his roommate would be able to negotiate stairs without benefit of crutches and would want to claim one for himself. The room he currently occupied downstairs could then be converted to an office.

Of course, while he cleaned, his mind drifted—first exploring options for how to find more bones, once his belief that the first had been human was confirmed, and then moving on to which rooms needed what sort of improvements, and finally drifting back to the long-haired mailman Trowa kept harping on.

Yes, the man was good-looking; that wasn't even in doubt. And it was unfathomable that he didn't have a significant other in his life. There _had _to be someone—maybe the nice blonde postmaster. After all, they'd been grocery shopping together, and shared a house. Who's to say they didn't share more than that?

Although…if they did, they had a funny way of acting like a couple. Duo had commented on Trowa's looks, and if Heero didn't know better, he'd have sworn Quatre had been flirting with him a bit in the grocery store.

_Great. How ironic would it be? Trowa was interested in the blonde. If Duo was interested in Trowa, and Quatre had his sights set on Heero—what a mess!_

Heero found himself scowling as he scrubbed yet another hearth, and wondering if he should just flat-out tell Trowa he had no interest in Duo, but thought the mailman had a little crush on the green-eyed man.

Of course, that would be an outright lie; or at least a partial one. He _did _think Duo was somewhat interested in Trowa.

But as for Heero not wanting Duo? Yeah, _that _was untrue.

"Ugh," Heero groaned, slapping his forehead. When the fuck had _that _happened? When had he begun to find the braided man—interesting?

Duo was nothing like Heero's last boyfriend, as far as he could tell, except in the ways Trowa had noted. The Japanese man's impression of the mailman was that he was emotional and demonstrative; quick to anger, and yet quick to crack a joke. He seemed to go from one extreme to another. Yet he had a kind heart, under it all; he'd brought Thor home wrapped in a blanket in the back seat of his Jeep, and acted like it was just something anyone would've done.

But it wasn't that which intrigued Heero the most; it was the hint of vulnerability he'd glimpsed while standing in that grocery store. There'd been the bruised face, of course, which made the indigo eyes look that much larger and more innocent. And then, Duo had gone to the trouble to thank him for interfering in the altercation at the convenience store.

Something during that conversation had tugged at Heero, and made him want to ask why the two bullies were fixated on Duo, and what made them think they could get away with it. The girl at the store had made it sound like it was commonplace for them to accost the braided man in public. And for some reason, knowing that fact made Heero want to track them down and rip their heads off.

Since when had he become the overprotective type? He didn't think of himself that way, in spite of his former occupation, and the way he was currently taking care of Trowa. It didn't feel like he was protecting Trowa—just taking care of him while he recovered. Duo, on the other hand, he wanted to protect. He wanted to seek out and destroy anyone who'd ever tormented the good-looking young man.

"Jesus," he muttered. "He's not a damsel in distress, Yuy. Get a grip!"

He had a feeling Duo would not thank him for the "damsel" comment, even if it _was _just for reference.

"Heero? You gonna be up there all day?" Trowa called from the foot of the stairs. "I made some supper."

"I'll be right down."

"And who were you talking to?"

_Shit—he'd heard?_

Heero thought fast. "The squirrels!" he quipped sarcastically. "I think we missed a few."

He heard his roommate's laugh echo up into the hallway. "You were talking to yourself again, weren't you?"

"What if I was?"

"Well, say that next time. Talking to squirrels sounds _way_ crazier than talking to yourself—which is something _everyone_ does at some point."

"Fine. I was talking to myself." Heero put down his cleaning equipment and dusted himself off, before heading down to eat whatever Trowa had prepared.

The auburn-haired man was already in the kitchen, moving around on one crutch with practiced ease. "Grab the salad out of the fridge, would ya?"

Heero did as he was asked, setting the bowl in the middle of the table.

Of course, there was an immediate flutter of wings, and the big grey parrot landed on the back of a chair. "Tasty!" he crooned, lifting one foot and flexing the toes as if to pick something up.

"You brat," Heero sighed, taking a snow pea out of the salad and passing it to the begging bird. "Take it to your perch, you mooch."

"Mooch," came a smug-sounding reply, and Zero grabbed the morsel and flew off with it.

In the next instant, Wing flew in from the porch as well, but landed on the table and walked right over to the bowl, helping himself to a carrot before his owner let out an angry yell and swung a dishtowel at him.

"Off the table!" Trowa snapped, chasing after the bird until it flew back out to the porch and settled in its cage. He followed and closed the door, then paused to eye Zero warily. The grey bird was on his corner perch, looking innocent and docile. "Don't even think about coming back to beg for more," he warned, shaking the towel at it.

Zero made a derisive noise, and then mumbled something under his breath that was too quiet to decipher.

"Watch your language," Trowa said curtly, heading back into the kitchen.

"And you think I'm nuts for talking to squirrels?" Heero teased, carrying the casserole over to the table and setting it on a hot plate.

"Non-existent ones? Yes!"

"They exist. And they even used to exist inside the house," Heero pointed out. "Just because we chased them all away and boarded up their sneaky little entrances—."

"At least I talk to animals capable of answering," came the haughty retort.

"They're capable of performing a repertoire. That's not really 'answering.'"

"Close enough." Trowa plunked himself down in a chair and reached for a spoon to serve himself some of the supper. "So—while I was cooking the meal, I had time to read some more. Did you know the journals are practically a complete history of this place?"

"That would make sense if consecutive owners all kept journals."

"Well—not _all _of them did. Ephraim, of course, was the first. And he was very good at dating his entries and including lots of observations of the land, and the town and townspeople. He described building this house practically board by board."

"Sounds—tedious," Heero noted. "But thorough. Maybe you should talk to a historical society about the books—see if they'd like to archive them."

Trowa frowned. "Not yet. I want to finish cataloging them first. I'm trying to arrange them in chronological order and then read from start to finish. Ephraim filled several books with his stories, which included a lot about Jacob, his son. And that's kind of fortunate, since Jacob didn't keep one. Near as I could tell from skimming through a few entries, Jacob went off to join the army during the Civil War."

Heero nodded, more interested in the animated look on his roommate's face than on the content of the journals. He'd rarely seen Trowa so enthusiastic about anything, and considering how depressed he'd been after his knee injury, this was a sharp contrast. A _good_ one.

"Jacob's son, Samuel, was probably the ancestor with the still. One of the books has his name penned on the inside cover, so I assume it will have _his _stories in it. Even my grandfather, Dekim Senior, kept a diary." Trowa gave a small smile. "I'm kind of looking forward to reading that one—to find out why my father left home and joined the circus."

"Wouldn't that be in your father's journal, rather than _his _father's?"

"Maybe. But I don't even know if he kept one. The lawyer hasn't located any of his personal effects yet." Trowa's smile faded a bit. "I hope he _did _keep some sort of records—letters or notes. I'd like to know whether or not he knew my mother was pregnant when he left."

"Wouldn't we all?" Heero said wryly.

They finished their meal talking idly about Ephraim's flowery descriptions of the landscape, and the deep love of the area that his entries displayed, and then afterwards, Heero took food and water out to Leon, before taking Thor and Balder out on their nightly walk.

Since Thor's big discovery, they'd studiously kept both Balder and him leashed, to be sure that if they headed for any remains, it would be with a person in tow. But so far, they'd been the picture of docility—not even tugging at the restraints. So there'd been no further discoveries made.

He'd all but given up on coaxing them to lead him to more bones, though it nagged at his curiosity. He couldn't help but wonder how old the remains were, or where they might be located. Had Samuel Barton gone as far as to kill a trespasser and bury the body? And if he had, was it someone who stumbled across his illegal liquor operation?

"Trowa's contagious," he concluded, talking to the dogs as they walked briskly along the trails. "I'm growing an imagination!"

Thor glanced up disinterestedly, and then resumed sniffing the ground as he paced along—clearly finding it more intriguing than his master's sardonic observations.

* * *

When Heero walked back into the house a couple of hours later, with Thor and Balder in tow, Trowa clattered down the stairs and gestured to the telephone stand. "Took a message for you. From Chang."

Heero winced, dropping the leashes on the table. "What did he have to say?"

"He wants you to call."

"That's it?"

"Yep."

"Why didn't he try my cell phone?"

"How should I know?" Trowa countered. "Maybe you were out of range—like most of this wilderness seems to be. Or maybe he lost your number. Maybe he just didn't feel like he had the right—."

Heero ran a hand across his face, looking a bit strained, and Trowa's green eyes softened with concern. "D'you want me to make the call?"

"No. I can talk to him," Heero said with a sigh. "I assume this is about the bone. As long as we keep it—professional—I should be okay."

Despite not having found any more of a skeleton, Heero hoped Chang could at least confirm that it was still worth looking. He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket, and hit the number for Chang's personal line, walking back outside as he did so.

"Chang here," came a curt, no-nonsense voice.

"It's H—Yuy," Heero fumbled, pacing across the porch and sitting on the railing. "I take it you've had a chance to analyze the bone."

"Yes. Now would you care to tell me the story behind it?"

"Didn't the police send the report I filed?"

"No. I merely got a bone with a hand-written note from the Smoky Hills Police Department. It gave your name and said you'd insisted on having it looked at, but that it was probably an animal bone." He gave an irritated huff. "The folks in the mail room almost threw it out, considering it some sort of practical joke. But the fact that it was sent to my attention, and had your name referenced at least got it to my desk. And one look assured me it was human; so I put it through the usual lab testing. Now, what's going on?"

Heero gave a dry chuckle. "Nice to hear your voice, too, Chang." And surprisingly, it was. The familiar, curt tone somehow relaxed him and made it easier to talk to his former lover.

"I—I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be irritable," Wufei said with less venom. "But this was very much out of the blue, and the lack of information was disturbing."

"I'm sure it would be," Heero answered, knowing how much the forensic expert liked having all the details of a case at his fingertips. "So let me fill you in. My dog brought that bone home a couple of weeks ago, after being out roaming in the woods. When I took a close look at it, I was fairly certain it was human. And since there was no reasonable explanation for it ending up in Thor's mouth, I thought it should be brought to the attention of the local authorities."

"Hmph. Local idiots," Chang snipped. "I take it they brushed off your concern?"

"In spades," admitted Heero. "I'm something of a local laughingstock at this point. Trowa happened to overhear someone making wisecracks about the whole incident, and the butcher came right out and laughed at me to my face. The cops pretty much did the same." He couldn't quite keep the chagrin out of his voice, and amazingly his ex-boyfriend picked up on it.

"They'll be laughing out the other side of their faces shortly," he said with satisfaction. "It's a human tibia, badly worn, from having been chewed on by more than just your hound dog. I'd say he found it after other scavengers got through with it."

"Oh. Not good," Heero muttered.

"Why?"

"I'd hoped he might lead me to the rest of the remains, if that's where he found it. But if it was a long way from the original resting place—." He let Chang fill in the blanks.

There was a frustrated sigh on the other end of the line. "Don't give up hope, Yuy. You're a better cop than that."

"I'm no cop at all, at the moment," Heero reminded him.

"Yes, you are. Leave of absence notwithstanding, you are and always will be a detective at heart. So tell me where to fax my findings, since the morons who sent me the bone didn't provide contact information."

"Their address—."

"Yours," came a stern retort. "I'm not dealing with those fools."

"Chang, it's not my case. It's not even a case at all, yet."

"It will be. You've got a portion of a skeleton dating back at least four or five years—maybe as much as ten. Preliminary findings are that it's male, between the ages of eighteen and twenty-five. Since cemeteries are scrupulous about burial practices, and no dog could possibly unearth a properly-interred body, that means it was buried 'privately,' which means there's a crime involved. When you find me the dump site, I can have a crew out there in a matter of hours, to try to gather more specific, verifiable data."

"But the jurisdiction—."

"—won't be a problem. I've already established that your local investigators haven't the staff or resources to conduct the kind of in-depth analysis required. My lab will be at your disposal."

"Shouldn't you be at _their _disposal?"

"I've already spoken to Une. She assured me that if they give you any grief, she'll pull rank and assign you to the case."

"I'm on _leave_," Heero reminded him.

"She'll temporarily suspend it," Wufei insisted. "If I ask nicely enough."

Heero sighed. "Why would you do that?"

"Because I think that when all is said and done, you will eventually come back to work. I don't think you have it in you to give up being a detective, in spite of—what happened. The fact that you are already involved in this case shows your commitment."

"Bullshit!" Heero blurted. "My dog stumbled on it, Chang."

"Yes, but it was you who opted to make a case out of it."

"What was I supposed to do—chuck it in the trash and forget it?"

"The average person would have," came the calm reply. "You and I both know that for a fact."

"Just because I can't help but recognize a human bone—."

"You have skills you could not possibly force yourself to stop using—even if you tried."

Heero gave a frustrated growl, and then gave up and dropped the subject. "Okay, Chang. You win. Let me give you my address and you can send me what you've got."

"Send? By _mail_? Don't you have a fax machine?"

"I've got dial-up internet and spotty cell service," Heero said bitterly. "I haven't even thought about hooking up a fax machine out here—though eventually it's something I might need."

"How long are you planning to hide out there?" came a rather snippy response.

"I don't know yet. As long as Trowa needs me," Heero retorted. "Frankly, it's none of your business—."

"You're entirely correct," Chang cut in, sounding just a bit offended. "My apologies for prying. But you went off without a word to anyone other than your boss, and the first I hear from you, it's in the form of human remains."

Heero managed a short laugh, imagining the impression that must have made. "Okay. Point for you. Look, I have a lot going on here. If you could just send me out your findings—and maybe notify the local police here?"

"Of course—if only to make sure they know you were right."

"That—would be nice. And I'm sure they'll take the news much better coming from you."

Chang gave a low, smug chuckle. "I fully intend to ridicule them, Yuy, and you know it."

"Ask me if I care," Heero replied unrepentantly.


	20. Suspicious Minds

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing, bigotry, some OOC

Pairings: 1X2 eventually, 3X4 also eventually

A/N: I'm posting tonight instead of in the morning because a) we've got rain and wind, and there's a chance of a power outage, b) I have horses, dogs and cats to feed on my way to work, so I have to leave early tomorrow, and c) I figured early is better than late, right?

SMOKY HILLS

_"Annabelle came to visit today, and for the first time since Aaron's death, I have hope that Jacob will recover. They sat and talked for hours, sharing stories of their common history with Aaron. During the brief times I strained to listen in as I passed the door, I caught bits and pieces of laughter, tears, anger, and sorrow. They poured them all out in ample measure. I pray that perchance their shared grief will help them both heal__…"_

_—excerpt from the private journal of Ephraim Barton_

Chapter Twenty: Suspicious Minds

It had been a couple of days since Trowa's visit to the post office, and Quatre had been raving about his green eyes and the hilarious shirt almost non-stop. Or at least it seemed that way to Duo, who found himself more often than not, thinking about blue eyes instead.

There was no rational reason for the way his thoughts wanted to gravitate towards Heero, aside from the fact that the man was gorgeous. He'd been abrasive from the start, though after the dog rescue and the return favor at Howie's, Duo had been treated to that truly breathtaking smile.

But that was hardly justification for the way the messy dark hair and piercing eyes of his newest customer stuck in his mind.

"—probably has a great sense of humor, considering. I don't think anyone would wear a shirt like that if he was the serious type," Quatre mused, while chopping up vegetables for a salad.

"Sheesh, are you still on about that?" Duo demanded, his concentration returning to his roommate, and the potatoes he was peeling. "It's been ages, and you've hardly stopped talking about him. You want to meet the guy, I can arrange it. After all, he invited me back—I could drag you with me and you could drool to your heart's content."

"No! I don't want it to seem like I'm being pushy or anything—."

"Just as well," Duo mumbled, recalling the glowing eyes in the barn. "He and his roommate are good-looking, but you gotta admit, the whole setup out there is just—weird. They're living there with a bunch of dogs, a crazy, screaming bird, and something out in the barn—."

"What do you mean, 'something out in the barn'?"

"I didn't get a good look, but when I drove past in the dark, the headlights caught something—." Duo frowned distractedly. "What kind of animal has eyes that glow green in headlights?"

Quatre pursed his lips thoughtfully. "Dogs are usually red, I think."

"I know bears are, too. And deer are an orangey yellow." Duo hesitated before adding, "Cats are greenish, I think."

"Cats? Well that explains it!" Quatre said brightly. "They probably have a barn cat. Didn't you say Trowa told you the place was full of mice when they moved in? They may have gotten a cat to help with the problem."

"Helluva big cat," Duo muttered, tossing the potatoes into a pan, rinsing them and then setting the pan on a burner. "The eyes were waist-high."

"Maybe it was sitting on a bale of hay or something," Quatre pointed out. "It was in a barn, after all."

Duo wanted to continue the discussion and point out that the distance between the eyes had been too great for a normal house cat. But he didn't think he'd win that one—or do any good for his credibility with his boss. Quatre would think he was back on the mountain lion subject.

But then…could it have _been _a mountain lion?

While a big cat might prowl around human dwellings, it certainly wouldn't go inside the barn—unless—since the place had been empty for so long, the cat had taken up residence there. In which case, Duo wondered if he should warn Heero and Trowa that there'd been mountain lion sightings in the area, and that their dogs could be in danger.

"What is going through that ever-so-active mind of yours?" Quatre wondered, carrying the salad bowl to the table and casting a suspicious look over his shoulder.

"Just thinking. I hope someone's told those guys about the bears and stuff out in these hills," Duo said thoughtfully, as he turned the heat on under the pan of potatoes. "I'd hate for Thor or Balder to get hurt by anything." He gave Quatre a sort of defiant look. "Even a bobcat or fisher could do some damage to a domestic dog—no matter how big it is."

"You're right. And maybe someone _should _caution them about such things," Quatre agreed readily. "As long as that farm stood empty, I'm surprised they didn't find those kinds of animals living there, right along with the squirrels and mice."

"Maybe they did," Duo said quietly.

"Why don't you stop up at the house tomorrow?" Quatre urged. "Since Trowa invited you, and Heero seemed very pleasant that time we bumped into him at the grocery store, it wouldn't be pushy for you to stop in and say 'hi.'"

Duo snorted wryly. "Yeah, it would. Trowa gave me that invitation before he knew I was gay."

"And from the way Heero acted, that didn't matter at all. Plus—." Quatre paused, looking down at his dinner plate, while idly straightening the flatware next to it. "Trowa specifically said to pass along a greeting to you the day he came into the post office."

"So he did," Duo smirked, seeing the little wrinkle on Quatre's forehead that meant he was bothered by something. "Like I said, buddy," he added gently. "You could come along with me and see those pretty green eyes up close and personal."

Quatre shot him a dirty look. "Which ones? Trowa's—or the ones in the barn?"

"The ones in the barn are _my _problem," Duo assured him. "Whatever was out there is probably long gone anyway. But I'd still like to be sure those guys know what kind of wildlife inhabits these hills. Heero said he runs with the dogs—."

It suddenly occurred to Duo that maybe Mister Yuy ran very early in the day, which was when a lot of wild animals were active—either waking and starting to forage, or heading back to their dens or lairs after a night of hunting.

While Yuy had handled himself well enough at Howie's that time with Otto and Trant, Duo felt a twinge of worry that the guy might know nothing about the great outdoors. "Just a babe in the woods," he said, half to himself.

"Hm?"

"Yuy. He didn't seem like he was real savvy about the forest," Duo noted.

Quatre smirked irrepressibly. "Oh—_that _kind of 'babe in the woods.'" He gave a teasing leer. "Maybe you should offer to teach him."

"What—hiking and camping tips?"

"Among other things."

"You, little blonde angel, have a very dirty mind," Duo pointed out, his own mind beginning to wander to pleasant things he could do with Yuy in the woods.

"Well, duh," Quatre shrugged. "I have to. Mind over matter, y'know—and with very few eligible guys around, I have to have a rich and varied fantasy life." He gave a sigh. "Too bad it's all in my head."

"Yeah, I'm sure there's other places you want it," Duo snickered.

"Duo!"

"Hey—you totally started it."

"Yes, but—." Quatre sighed in resignation. "You're right. I did."

"Anyhow," Duo continued. "It'd probably be a good idea for someone to warn those guys about the wildlife around here, and what could happen to their dogs if they run off again—especially at night."

"I agree." Quatre went over to pick up the tray of marinating steaks. "And I think it should be you. You're like, the only person in town besides Hilde who's ever really talked to them. You've even been at the house."

"I suppose so," Duo sighed, wondering if he needed an excuse—like another registered letter—or if he should just be daring and go ahead and show up on their doorstep.

His musings were interrupted when Quatre shoved the plate of meat into his hands. "Get grilling, Maxwell. We can daydream about the hot guys later."

"Just before bed?" Duo countered. "Not likely. I'm not _that_ much of a masochist."

Quatre gave a perfectly wicked smirk. "Whose turn is it to do laundry this week?"

"Mine. And don't you _dare_!" Duo shook a fork at his roommate. "If I see even the least little suspicious-looking wet spot on your sheets—!"

Quatre waved dismissively, heading for the refrigerator to find the steak sauce. "Give me credit, Duo—I'd use a towel."

"I have to wash those, too!" Duo groused. "There's such a thing as Kleenex, pal. _Use_ it. And throw your own mess away. You are _totally_ emptying the wastebaskets this week!"

He breezed out the door to cook their meal, while Quatre tended the potatoes and the remaining dinner preparation, a devilish gleam in the baby blue eyes.

* * *

Heero was both elated and anxious after the call from Wufei. On the one hand, it felt good to know the local cops would get their nose rubbed in the fact that he'd been right.

And on the other—he'd been right. Which meant that there were more bones out there somewhere, evidence of a crime that had yet to be discovered. It galled Heero to not know where the remaining bones were located.

It galled him even more when the day after Chang's phone call, the local cops showed up on his doorstep.

He heard the knock from the kitchen, and then it was drowned out by the dogs' barking. "Trowa?" he called to his roommate, who was still in the bathroom. "Expecting anyone?"

"Just the hot mailman," Trowa called back with a teasing lilt in his voice.

"Seriously!" Heero snapped.

"Nope. No one."

Heero pushed the dogs aside, and headed for the front door, pulling it open to see Officer Kurt there, with another policeman. "What do you want?" he asked crisply.

Ralph glared back at him. "A little cooperation would be nice, for starters," he growled. "Your big-shot forensic guy gave us an earful about investigating that bone your dog found. So we're here to do that."

"I filed a report," Heero reminded him. "All the pertinent information was in there."

"Yeah, except for the location of the rest of the skeleton," the other officer spoke up.

Heero eyed his name tag. "Look, Officer Brown, as I told your partner here—I have no idea where the remaining bones are located. The dogs got loose, and one of them brought that one home. I've no idea where he originally found it."

"Then you won't mind us taking a look around?" asked Ralph, his glance sliding around the yard and then settling back on Heero.

"Actually, yes, I would mind."

Ralph looked at him in surprise.

But it was Alex who spoke up. "_Why_, Mister Yuy? You got something to hide?" he asked with a scowl. "Maybe we should be having a look inside, as well."

Heero's dark look intensified. "Why would you need to look inside the house?"

"In case maybe the dog had help finding that bone—."

"That's it!" Heero snapped, taking a step forward and placing a finger squarely on Ralph's chest. "You scoffed at the very idea that bone was human, and now your asshole of a partner wants to imply I had something to do with it?" Ralph backed a step, and Heero followed, closing the distance between them. "You come back here with a warrant, if you want to conduct a search. Otherwise, leave me alone and go back to watching your ballgames!"

"There's no need to get belligerent," Ralph grumbled. "We're just trying to do our jobs here. Least you could do is let us take a look around the property."

"I've _looked_ around the property. I canvassed the barn and outbuildings, the house and back yard, and all along the driveway and the woods on either side," Heero told him. "I don't even know if the dog was on my property, or state land. I see no reason for you to hang around insulting me and wasting my time. So get in your car and go set a speed trap, why don't you?"

Muttering under his breath, Ralph jerked his head at his partner, and the two headed for their cruiser. When Officer Brown paused and turned towards the barn, Heero cleared his throat. "Keep moving, you two! And don't bother coming back, either!" He knew full well that the report he'd filed would negate any grounds for a search warrant—unless the officers knew a crooked judge. But he figured if they could manage to acquire one, he'd have plenty of time to move Leon before they got back with it.

As he watched the officers drive away, he heard the screen door open, and Thor and Balder padded up beside him, followed by Trowa. "You have got to work on that attitude," his roommate teased. "How will you make new friends if you keep chasing them away?"

"First off, they weren't friends; they were cops. Secondly, they laughed about the bone right up until Chang straightened them out. And thirdly, they are complete morons." He turned to look at the auburn-haired man. "Why on Earth would I turn in a bone if I was trying to cover up a crime?"

"Um—to throw 'em off the scent?" Trowa asked, playing devil's advocate.

"Right," Heero scoffed. "They wouldn't know a scent if they were drowning in it. Idiots!"

Trowa put a hand on his shoulder. "Well, you did your part," he said soothingly. "You turned in the bone and it's their problem now. C'mon in and have breakfast."

"As soon as I feed Leon, and make sure the barn door is padlocked and the windows secured," Heero said darkly. "If those two morons come back, I want them to need bolt cutters before they'll have a chance of getting inside that barn!"

"We could explain it," Trowa assured him. "I have the letter from Catherine, and the veterinary records and all the paperwork—."

"Yes, but you don't have the permits in hand yet. We could still be cited for a violation, and it might prevent us from ever getting our license to keep exotics." He shook his head. "Not worth the risk."

"I guess not," his partner conceded. "Go ahead and batten down the hatches, and I'll have hot food on the table by the time you come in."

He was true to his word, preparing omelets for both of them, filled with sausage, vegetables and a bit of shredded cheese. Now that he was getting around more, and attending physical therapy during the week, he found that his appetite had increased along with his activity and energy level. He was grateful to be approaching what could almost be considered normal again.

_Almost. _

When he felt the familiar, dull ache in his knee that indicated he'd been standing in one spot too long, he limped over to the table and pushed aside a stack of journals to put down his plate. Then he settled into a chair and stretched out both legs with a sigh.

Moments later, he heard the front door slam, and the patter of feet as Heero and the two dogs approached.

The Japanese man passed him and went straight to the sink, turning on the water and beginning to wash both arms. But the vigor with which he scrubbed them seemed like more than simply washing up for breakfast.

"Heero—?"

"It's nothing."

Trowa pushed back to his feet, hobbling over to his roommate in time to see him rinsing blood from a long gash on one forearm. "What happened?"

"I reached too far trying to take the leftovers out of the cage," Heero admitted. "He took a swipe and just nicked me."

"Heero! Let me see!"

Trowa tried to grab the injured arm, but Heero pulled it away. "It's a damned scratch, Trowa. Forget about it!"

"Like hell, I will! You should have stitches—antibiotics—."

Heero turned off the water, grabbing a paper towel and blotting the arm. Then he held it out, glaring into Trowa's eyes. "Look at it!" he snapped. "It's barely skin deep. If I get the first aid kit and scrub it with betadine, then put Neosporin on it and wrap it, it'll heal up in a couple of days."

Trowa reached a shaking hand out and gingerly examined the slash, reluctantly admitting to himself that it really _was_ superficial. "But it could have been so much worse—!"

"Could have—but wasn't," Heero insisted. "I got lazy, Barton. It's as simple as that. Instead of using the hook to snag the old food out of the pen, I just reached through the bars. It was my own fault." He shook his head. "You know you taught me better than that."

"Jesus," breathed Trowa in an explosive sigh, his green eyes troubled.

Heero took him by both shoulders, forcing him to meet his gaze. "Stop," he cautioned. "It was a simple case of carelessness on my part. Don't blame Leon, and definitely don't blame yourself. I've had all my shots, and so has the mangy fleabag. So there's nothing to worry about."

"Nothing except that if we start a permanent rehab center here, we'll have liability issues galore—."

"Not if we do the caging and handling properly," Heero reminded him. "We're just getting started, and we were far from ready for Leon when he arrived. So he's a test case. We'll work out all our issues with him, and be better prepared for the next animal in need of housing and care."

"I—guess so," Trowa relented, feeling a mixture of relief and worry. He was glad the injury wasn't serious—but more concerned than ever about the practicality of what they were doing.

"Don't doubt yourself now," Heero cautioned. "We can do this. Don't let my stupid blunder make you question your goals."

"I won't," Trowa replied without a lot of conviction. "But we're going to make sure our safeguards are top notch, Yuy. Understood?"

"Yes. Very clearly." They settled down to breakfast, dropping the worrisome dialogue and just enjoying the meal. Of course Wing and Zero flew in from the porch to mooch some tidbits, and before the meal was over, both birds ended up locked in their cages for the remainder of the day. Wing had made the grievous error of grabbing Trowa's fork and attempting to make off with it, and Zero had foolishly placed a foot on Heero's plate, which was off limits.

Both birds knew better, but like any children, they seemed to delight in testing the boundaries from time to time—not entirely unlike their owners.


	21. Receiving a Clue

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing, bigotry, some OOC

Pairings: 1X2 eventually, 3X4 also eventually

SMOKY HILLS

_"__Aaron's funeral was held today. Everyone turned out for it, as the whole community felt the pain of his loss. Young Annabelle was there, clinging to Jacob for comfort as the preacher conducted the memorial service. It's difficult to say who was comforting whom, though. I know Jacob blames himself for what happened, as truly he should, to some degree. But I wonder if he's told me the whole truth. His grief seems disproportionate; nearly all-consuming. What could he be hiding that would cause such guilt?__"_

—_excerpt from the private journal of Ephraim Barton_

Chapter Twenty One: Receiving a Clue

The next morning, as usual, Quatre was off to work earlier than Duo, who started an hour later than his boss, allowing time for sorting the morning's mail so it would be ready for him to case.

Of course, Duo made his usual doughnut and coffee stop. But when he heard the chatter between Hilde and several other regulars, he decided to treat Quatre to breakfast as well—so they could sit and have a quick gossip session before delving into their work.

He bounded into the post office with more than his usual vigor that morning, a travel mug of coffee in one hand, and a bag of doughnuts in the other. "Hey, Quat! You'll never guess what I heard over at Howie's this morning!"

Quatre looked up from sorting letters. "If this is about Mister Johnson and the preacher's wife—."

"No! That's old news." Duo set his mug down and held out a Styrofoam cup to his boss. "Tall, four-pump soy latte," he said with a grin. "And a plain jelly doughnut for you, chocolate-covered for me."

"Oh, bribery. I like it," Quatre cooed, accepting his drink and snack. He took a big bite, licked jelly from his fingertips, and then eyed Duo questioningly. "So, what's the scoop?"

"Seems the bone the big ol' dog at the Barton place dug up was no cow bone," Duo said in a conspiratorial tone. "It was _human_!"

"Really?" Quatre's eyes grew round. "Are you serious?"

"As serious as a heart attack," quipped the braided man.

"Wow." Quatre paused, taking another bite of doughnut and a long sip of his latte. "So—Yuy was right." He shook his head in wonder. "Do they know where the dog found it?"

"Nope. According to the rumor mill, he just came wandering home with a human bone in his jaws." Duo smirked sipping his own drink. "Maybe he ate the rest."

"Ugh, Duo!"

"Heh—just kidding," Duo grinned. "They said it was pretty old. I think the cops figure the dog got into one of the really old cemeteries in town."

"I doubt that," mused the postmaster. "They buried bodies pretty deep, even back in colonial times. No one wanted scavengers getting at the remains."

"Personally, I'd bet old man Barton shot some trespasser or revenuer and buried the body out back of the wood shed."

"Oh come on. There'd have been an investigation if he did something like that. I mean, tax men didn't usually go to places like that alone, and even if they did, someone would've followed up if they didn't come back."

"What about a trespasser? Could've been one of the bums that used to come through here when the railroad was still in business," Duo pointed out, chomping off half of his doughnut in one bite.

"How many years ago would that have been?"

"Depends on whether you're talking about Dekim Junior's father, or the original 'Old Man Barton,'" Duo shrugged, talking around his mouthful. He paused for a swig of coffee and swallowed. "I didn't know the first; he was before my time, though his reputation hung around long after. He's the one who built the still up in the woods and ran moonshine during Prohibition. His son was the one we all lived in fear of around here. Creepy old guy who carried a shotgun full of rock salt, or so he said. Warned all us kids if he saw us on his property we'd be gettin' a butt full." He gave a wry chuckle. "Of course, he didn't know some of us were gay and that phrase could have a whole other meaning." His brow wrinkled a bit. "Or maybe he did, and he was just an old pervert."

"Duo!" Quatre laughed even as he finished his doughnut and reached for another handful of mail.

"Y'never know," Duo said wisely, gesturing with his travel mug. "Maybe that's why Dekim ran away from home. Maybe his old man _did_ stuff to him."

"Eww—you can stop now!" Quatre urged. "I don't even want to think about things like that."

Duo shrugged. "Shit happens, Quat. Not everyone comes from a well-behaved family like yours."

"Well-behaved?" Quatre snorted at that. "I'm not sure my dad throwing me out when he learned I was gay is what you'd call well-behaved."

"Depends on who you ask, I suppose. Ask an anal shithead like him, and he'd probably think it was the height of civilization to cast out the unclean." Duo reached a reassuring hand to his friend's shoulder. "He's an idiot," he said soothingly. "You and I both know it."

Quatre nodded, his expression turning a bit bleak. But he shook off the somber mood quickly, and turned the subject back to the latest gossip. "So, if it was the wolfhound that found the bone, your pal Mister Yuy must be right in the thick of things."

"Hm. Maybe _he_ killed someone with that death glare of his, and is just trying to throw the investigation off by pretending the dog found the bone somewhere."

"God, that's some imagination you've got there," laughed the blonde.

"Hey, as nasty as Yuy was to me, I wouldn't put murder past him—."

"But he's not that way any more," Quatre reminded him.

"I guess not…" Duo frowned, looking away and sighing. "I just wish he wasn't so…" _Straight_, his mind supplied. If only the best-looking guy to show up in Smoky Hills in years wasn't a grouchy straight one. It seemed like such a waste.

"So—?" prompted Quatre knowingly.

"So nasty."

"And straight."

"That, too."

Quatre smirked at him. "Then check this out." He tossed something on the counter.

Duo looked at the magazine in the plain brown wrapper, and his eyebrows rose in surprise. "_Hot Studs_?"

Quatre's smirk widened into a grin. "Guess who it's for."

Duo read the name and address, and his jaw dropped. "_Yuy_?"

The blonde's eyes had a devilish twinkle. "Looks like your least favorite customer swings our way."

Duo dropped the magazine as if it were on fire. "No way!"

"Well why else would he subscribe to the most popular gay guy magazine ever?"

"Maybe it was a mistake—in the subscription department," Duo hazarded.

"And maybe not." Quatre gave a shrug. "He's sharing a house with another guy, Duo. Doesn't that seem like an indicator?"

"Not necessarily. Lotsa guys share the rent without sharing a bed—like you an' me."

"Yes, but we're gay."

"Yeah, but we were already roommates before we found that stuff out about each other. I'd have roomed with you even if you were straight. Wouldn't have mattered to me."

"I suppose," came the vague reply.

"Otto and Trant have an apartment together. And you know damned well they aren't gay!"

"Yes, but Otto's dad owns the building, and the only vacancy he had was the two-bedroom place. It's not like they could've gotten separate apartments anyway."

"I guess." Duo looked down at the simple brown wrapper and the telltale return address. "But if you're right, then the hottest guy to set foot in this town since you is already taken."

"You think he's hot?"

Duo just looked up with a "duh" expression on his face. He didn't even have to say the word.

"You hate him," Quatre pointed out. "Or," he added coyly. "You used to."

"Yes, but I can still admit he's easy on the eyes."

Quatre sorted a few more pieces of mail and then looked around the case again to find Duo still staring at the magazine with a sort of sad, pensive expression on his face. "You think _I'm_ hot?" he asked pertly.

Duo looked up in surprise. "Well—yeah," he admitted. "I mean, not that I'd ever try to start anything—you bein' my boss and all." He blushed a little, focusing on the magazine again. "Besides, Quat—you're more like a brother, and you're my best friend. Doesn't make you any less gorgeous. I'd just feel weird hitting on you. And I wouldn't want to risk losing my best buddy if things didn't work out, yanno?"

"Yeah, I do," Quatre said warmly. "Same goes for me."

Duo shook his head, curling up the magazine and stuffing it into the sorting case. "Damned good-looking ones are always out of reach," he sighed. "I gotta get the hell out of this town some day."

"Me too," agreed his friend. "Me too."

* * *

After breakfast, Trowa went to take a shower and do his morning exercises, while Heero got to work sanding and painting the porch. He'd decided to do it in sections, since it wrapped around three sides of the house, and that way he could block parts of it to allow drying time.

He couldn't help noticing, even as he chipped away at some flaking paint on a thick, solid post, that the menial labor was oddly relaxing.

Compared to his previous job as a homicide detective, stripping paint from a two-hundred year old house was incredibly simple. He didn't have to think while he did it—just use the scraper to loosen old paint, and then sand it smooth enough to take a new coat.

Considering he was out on stress leave, he needed all the calming activity he could find.

A soft breeze blew through the trees, carrying the scent of pine and earth, and he took a deep breath as he swept some of the debris into a dustpan.

Then he paused, hearing the soft scuff of a bare foot on the boards behind him. "I like it here," he said quietly.

"Me, too," Trowa answered, using his cane as he walked around to take a seat on the railing. "I never had one before—but this place feels like home."

Heero placed a hand flat against the smooth wood of a post. "I—don't want to go back to Sanc."

"Then don't."

He looked up with a frown. "My disability income won't last forever, Trowa. And I'm nowhere near an early retirement yet."

"Fuck retirement," Trowa shrugged. "Get a different job—one around here. That's what I plan to do, when my knee is back to a hundred percent. I'll find something part-time, or a work-from-home kind of job, and just stay here and take care of animals and enjoy all the peace and quiet. You should, too."

"Yeah, I'm sure they have lots of openings for washed-up homicide cops around here," came a caustic reply.

"Jesus, Heero—you're not 'washed-up.' You just need time—."

"It's been months. And I'm not getting any better," Heero said flatly. "I still think about what happened—still see it every night when I close my eyes."

"Your psychologist said it could take years—."

Heero shook his head. "I don't have that long. Une wants me to check in with the department psychiatrist in a few weeks—to get a progress report."

"And what will that accomplish?"

"If he says I'm ready to go back to work, I'll have to go back." Heero sighed deeply. "If he says I'm not, they'll extend my stress leave one more time—and after that, they'll probably let me go for good."

"Probably doesn't mean definitely. And stressing out over it certainly won't change the outcome. So, worry about it when the time comes, why don't you?" Trowa suggested, patting his friend on the shoulder. "Meanwhile, enjoy the sound of the breeze and the singing birds, and the company of your closest and best friend—okay?"

Heero gave him a rather weak, lopsided grin. "Give a guy an ancestral home, and he just turns into a freakin' philosopher."

Trowa chuckled in return. "Naw—it's Ephraim's journals. Those things are just—well—amazing. He talks about the land like it's a living thing—describes the terrain and the sights and smells. He just makes it come alive. And being here while reading his thoughts and dreams—. Well, like I said, I feel at home."

"Me, too," Heero admitted, handing Trowa a paint brush and gesturing to the railing. "Why don't you pull up a chair and work on the spindles? You can do that with your knee stretched out to relax, right?"

"Yes, slave master," Trowa smirked back, grabbing the brush and feeling a surge of elation that he could help with the rejuvenation of the old homestead. As his mobility increased, so did his ability to help with more of the heavy work, and he was looking forward to a time he could do what he considered his fair share.

For the time being, though, he had to settle for a simple job, but one that definitely needed doing.

They spent the better part of the morning and early afternoon working on the porch, breaking briefly for lunch, and then resuming the tedious, yet relaxing task. And when they finally knocked off for the day in order to clean up and make supper, Heero decided to stretch his legs first by taking the dogs for a walk down to the mailbox.

He told himself he wasn't hoping for a glimpse of the attractive mailman. Really. But he did kind of hope to see him—if only to make sure he was okay, and hadn't had any further run-ins with the bullies they'd encountered at the convenience store.

"Lame, Yuy. Very lame," he muttered as he walked the two wolfhounds down the long, winding driveway.

He heard the Jeep rumbling up the road even as he turned the last bend and neared the mailbox, and resisted the urge to smile at his perfect timing.

He tightened his grip on the two leashes, as the dogs cocked their ears at the sound of the engine. "Easy, boys. No running out in the road."

Thor and Balder looked at him—unimpressed—and resumed sniffing the ground.

When Duo saw the man waiting near the mailbox, he pulled past it, grateful for the chance to talk to the gorgeous guy and mention the wildlife in the area.

"Hello Miste—er—Heero."

Heero smiled, glad that Duo had remembered to drop the "Mister." "Hi."

Duo fished under the seat quickly, grabbed the ever-present box of treats, and held out two dog biscuits. "Can I give Thor and his buddy a snack?"

"That's fine," Heero told him, walking the dogs close enough that they could sniff the offered treats and then take and devour them. "The other one is Balder."

Duo grinned, recalling that Trowa had mentioned the dog's name the day he'd moved the trunk for him. "Thor's brother—like in Norse mythology, right?"

"Yes." Heero eyed him curiously. "You studied Norse mythology?"

"Back in high school," Duo admitted with a shrug. "They offered an elective course in all kinds of mythology, and it was a hell of a lot more interesting than English Lit or Quantum Physics or somethin' like that."

"I'll bet it was."

Duo reached into the tray next to him and took the bundle of mail for the Barton home, holding that out as well. "Seems silly puttin' this in the mailbox with you standing right here."

Heero took the mail with a polite nod of thanks.

As he did so, Duo's gaze fell on the bandage around his forearm. "Ooh—what happened to your arm?"

"I cut it," Heero said flatly, hoping to discourage further questions on the subject.

Duo frowned slightly. "Geeze—first your dog's paw got hurt, and now your arm? You and Thor seem a little bit accident prone." He brightened as he realized he had the perfect lead-in for a topic he and Quatre had discussed.

"Hey—um—that reminds me," he continued, looking down at the dogs, instead of into the deep blue eyes. "Quatre and I were talking the other day. I dunno if anyone's warned you or Trowa—." He glanced up from under his bangs. "But there's a lot of wildlife around these parts—bear, moose, bobcats, coyotes and fishers—even an occasional story about a mountain lion sighting." He managed not to grimace, as he brought up the subject he'd so often been mocked about. "You said you go running with the dogs."

"Yes, every morning, and sometimes for a walk in the evening, if there's time."

"Yeah. Those are the times most animals are out and about. I just thought you should know, so you can be careful out there, y'know?" Duo gave a hesitant smile. "Thor may be big and scary looking, but he'd never be able to hold his own against a bear or mountain lion."

"I'm sure he wouldn't," Heero agreed, dropping a fond hand onto the shaggy head. "He's all bluff, really."

"Well—that and teeth," Duo pointed out, as Thor opened his mouth in a wide yawn.

"Thank you for the warning," Heero said, his expression very serious. "I'll be careful out there. Perhaps I'll start carrying a stick, or a heavy flashlight—something with enough length and weight for self-defense."

Duo nodded, his gaze sliding across the brown-wrapped magazine in the bundle of mail Heero was shifting to his other hand, so he could manage the two dog leashes more easily. He felt a blush creep up his cheeks, and studiously avoided looking squarely at the other man, as the words "length and weight" echoed suggestively in his head.

_Shit! He had to get out of there before he totally__ embarrassed himself._

"Um—have a nice day," he said brightly, wincing at the hackneyed expression.

"You too," Heero replied, with a vaguely amused look on his face.

"Uh, yeah. Bye!"

Duo pulled away before anything dumber than "have a nice day" slipped past his lips.

"Fuck!" he hissed to himself, glancing back in the rear view mirror to see Heero staring after him. "Jesus, Maxwell—could you be any more idiotic if you tried?" he asked himself. "'Have a nice day?' What the fuck were you thinking?"

He wasn't thinking, actually. More like—reacting—to a totally hot guy standing there holding a gay porn magazine in his hand.

"Ugh! If he didn't think I was a moron before, I'm sure he does now," Duo sighed, shaking his head. He resisted the urge to bang his head on the steering wheel. "Loser. Fucking loser, Maxwell!"

And to top it off, he'd forgotten all about the human bone, and the fact that he'd wanted to ask Heero for more information, or at least congratulate him on embarrassing the local cops. Instead, he'd gotten tongue-tied and stupid in front of a handsome guy he really wanted to impress. A total loss.

"I hate my life."

* * *

Heero watched until the Jeep rounded a corner, and then turned in the direction of the house, giving a short tug to get Thor and Balder to follow. "C'mon boys. That's enough staring after the cute mailman."

He broke stride for a second, a bit shocked that the word "cute" had tumbled out of his mouth. But there really was no other way to describe the faint blush on those smooth cheeks, and the shy way Duo had looked up from under his bangs. "Cute?" He shook his head, resuming his even pace. "Trowa must be rubbing off on me more than I realized." He began thumbing through the mail as he walked, relegating each piece to the junk or bill category, for later disposal.

He held out a letter from Catherine, knowing Trowa would want to read up on how things were going back at the circus. Even though he'd left that life, Trowa would always consider those people family.

And then he noticed the brown-wrapped magazine. "What the—?" He frowned in confusion, pulling off the paper. He didn't recall having started a subscription to…_Hot Studs_?

"Trowa!" he snapped, glaring at the cover photo of a muscle-bound guy in a very revealing swimsuit.

He swore under his breath for several moments, as his dogs followed along looking faintly bemused by the tirade. Although, how Thor and Balder seemed to realize the anger wasn't directed at _them_, Heero could never understand. The dogs had a sixth sense about being in trouble, though it didn't seem to stop them from seeking it out.

Trowa was at the table, sketching out some plans for exercise yards for the exotics he planned to keep, when his roommate stalked in.

"Very funny, Barton," Heero said dryly, tossing the magazine on the table as he passed.

"Hm?" He looked up with as innocent an expression as he could manage, under the circumstances.

"Don't 'hm' _me_, Trowa Barton!" Heero tapped a finger into the center of the magazine, denting the paper. "Thought you'd give the mailman a clue, did you?"

"Well you certainly weren't doing it," Trowa hmphed. "And be careful! You put a dent in Mister June's forehead." He smoothed a hand over the glossy picture.

"You want to stare at 'Mister June,' then take him to your room and stare all you like!" Heero growled. "And don't ever start a subscription to garbage like that in my name again!" His glare intensified. "Why didn't you use your own name?"

"Well that would hardly help Maxwell figure out _you _were gay, now would it?"

"What makes you think he _did_?" Heero demanded. "It was in a plain brown wrapper!"

"Yes, but the return address on the outside was 'Hot Studs Magazine.' Trust me—the mailman knows what that means." He gave an unrepentant grin. "It means you're accessible."

"I'm not accessible!" Heero snapped. "I'm not interested in starting something with the mailman!"

"Bullshit," came the smooth reply. "He intrigues you, I can tell."

"I've said it before—I'm not _here _to be intrigued, or to start anything. I'm supposed to be nursing you back to health and getting my own act together so I can go back to work some day!"

"Sex might help," Trowa shrugged, smirking as he started to thumb through the magazine. "It'd probably improve that temper of yours, y'know. Stress relief."

Heero rolled his eyes. "Unlike you, Barton, I don't use sex for recreational purposes."

Trowa shot him a narrow look. "Maybe you should. It'd sure as hell be better than spending endless hours at the shooting range—or out running. You can't run away from yourself, Heero. God knows, you've tried!"

Heero flinched at that, and Trowa's expression changed to a more sympathetic one.

"Look, Heero, all the therapy in the world hasn't really gotten you over the past. Neither has the working out or all the slaving away you've done getting this place into shape. I just think the answer's not _inside _you. There's something missing that you'll only find by looking beyond yourself and your own thoughts."

"Be that as it may," Heero said quietly. "It's not something I'm likely to just stumble across. Trying to fix me up with the mailman for the sake of a distraction is a waste of time, Tro'."

"He's not a distraction," Trowa asserted. "He's a nice guy. I _met _him, remember? And he was way the hell nicer and a lot funnier than your last stick-up-his-ass boyfriend." His green eyes narrowed astutely. "I heard your tone of voice when you talked about running into him at that convenience store, too. You're genuinely worried about him, aren't you?"

"I hadn't given it much thought," Heero said brusquely, his attention distracted as he idly brushed some crumbs off the counter and into the sink. "Between working on permits and Thor finding that bone, I frankly haven't thought about the mailman in days."

Trowa smirked triumphantly. "Days? Meaning you _had _been thinking about him."

Heero rolled his eyes. "Would you just drop it?" he demanded. "Romance is the last thing I've got time for right now." He stalked out of the room, heading for a shower before dinner.

"But it's what might do you the most good," Trowa sighed, looking down at the magazine on the table.


	22. Into the Forest

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing, bigotry, some OOC

Pairings: 1X2 eventually, 3X4 also eventually

A/N: Another slightly early update, since I have animals to take care of on the way to work in the morning, and time will be short. Again, better early than late, right?

SMOKY HILLS

_"__Jacob has proposed to Annabelle, and she has accepted. While I have my reservations, I dare not voice them to him. But in my solitude I wonder_—_is she only settling for what she considers second best? She and Aaron were close. Everyone assumed they would eventually be wed. But his death brought many changes; not the least of which was Annabelle's turning to Jacob for comfort and support. If she knew that he was there when Aaron fell from the ledge, would she be so inclined? I don't know. But seeing my son so happy, I can't bring myself to interfere. I spend more time out in the forests and fields than I did before, with my dog Thunder for company. And I search my conscience and ask the Lord to somehow show me if I'm right to hold my silence. But I've yet to receive an answer__…"_

—_excerpt from the private journal of Ephraim Barton_

Chapter Twenty Two: Into the Forest

Days had passed since the police came to the door, and the first issue of _Hot Studs _arrived in the mail, and Trowa had noticed an increasing restlessness in his roommate. He might have thought it was the tedium of chipping paint and sanding porch railings taking a toll. But he knew Heero far better than that.

Heero was—preoccupied. And for as long as Trowa had known him, the only thing capable of preoccupying him so completely was work. Only Heero wasn't _at _work.

Although—Trowa was beginning to wonder if Heero was more ready to return to duty than he professed to be. It was pretty clear he was in full-on cop mode, his keen mind sifting through the possibilities of how a single bone ended up in Thor's mouth.

If that was the case, Trowa wanted to be nothing less than supportive. Much as he enjoyed Heero's company, he also wanted him to be able to return to work, if he chose to—or at the very least, use some of his experience and training to solve the mystery that had fallen into their laps.

Of course, Heero would never come out and say he wanted to search for clues; that would be too much like admitting he couldn't stop being the investigator he'd trained to be. He was hiding from himself as much as from the incident that had resulted in his going out on stress leave.

But more and more, Heero's natural inquisitiveness and determination were returning to the forefront, and it didn't seem like he'd be able to ignore such an intriguing little puzzle as the whereabouts of the rest of the skeleton Thor had found.

When another letter from Catherine arrived, Trowa put his theory to the test over supper.

Heero had been picking idly at his food, while Trowa chattered on about the latest news from the circus, his keen gaze never leaving his friend's face. Trowa finally lapsed into silence, waiting to see how long it would take for Heero to look up and realize he was the object of an intense stare.

After a long moment passed, Heero looked up questioningly, and then scowled. "What?"

"You've been somewhere else all evening," Trowa accused. "Not that there's anything all that important for me to tell you—but I doubt you heard a single word."

"I heard it all—the baby elephant that was born, Nikos the trapeze artist's near-fall, the sold-out show in Atlanta—." He gave a small shrug. "Just didn't seem like it called for a response."

"So—what's the next step in the murder investigation you say you're not conducting?" asked the auburn-haired man, deciding to jump right to the point.

Heero looked sheepish. "I thought I might take Thor and Balder out hiking in the woods again—a bit further afield—and see if they lead me to the area where the bone came from."

"All right—when are we leaving?" Trowa asked, rubbing his hands together eagerly.

Heero cast a dark look his way. "You aren't supposed to be out hiking yet, Barton. Your knee—."

"It's fine,"Trowa argued. "Never felt better!"

"Except when you go up and down stairs, or walk on uneven surfaces, like woodland trails."

"I think I know my own limitations," Trowa retorted a bit irritably. "I'd be fine taking a little walk in the woods. And it'd beat the hell out of sitting around here while you have all the excitement."

"It's not about excitement," Heero argued. "It's about doing everything possible to uncover the truth."

"Spoken like a true detective," Trowa noted. Heero scowled at him, but Trowa waved it aside. "Seriously, Heero. You're fixated on this mystery, and you won't rest until you figure it out."

"Do you know the success rate of cold cases, Barton?" Heero shook his head. "It's low. Very low. The odds are that even if I find enough of the skeleton for Chang's people to make an i.d., there won't be enough physical evidence left to make any arrests."

"And yet you still want to find it, don't you?" Trowa leaned forward in his chair. "Let me help—please. I swear, I'm not going to mess up my knee again. I'm the last person who wants to end up back in that stupid hospital. I'll wear my brace, and I'll even bring along one of my crutches, in case I get tired." Trowa pulled off a fair approximation of a pout, though his stoic face was barely up to the task. "C'mon—you know two sets of eyes are better than one, and even if I have a weak knee, there's nothing wrong with my vision. I could spot something you miss out there—."

Heero gave him a stern look. "I'm not willing to risk your health, just to—."

"You won't be. My knee's getting stronger all the time. A little jaunt in the woods can't be any worse than what my physical therapist puts me through every week."

Heero eyed him dubiously. "You've kept up with your daily exercises?"

"Every morning right after my shower."

"And you're taking your meds?"

"As prescribed. Every pill." Trowa added a grimace after that.

"Do you promise that if you start to feel fatigued, or even a twinge of pain, you'll tell me so we can head back here?"

"Promise."

"You're awfully quick with that promise," Heero noted. "Why are you so set on this?"

"Because it's obvious to me that it's important to you, and I want to help _you _for a change. As supportive as you've been helping to get this place into shape, I'd like to return the favor."

"You don't have to go with me on an all-day hike to do that."

"At the moment, it's the only way I can see to give back just a fraction of what you've given me," Trowa said firmly.

Heero sighed, shaking his head. "You could wait here, and be just as supportive, you know."

"But I don't want to." Trowa gave him a wicked smirk. "Besides—you leave me to my own devices that long, and I might have to order a few things on line to go with that lovely magazine subscription. How would you like a package from 'Whips 'R Us' to arrive next week?" His grin turned downright depraved. "I can just picture Duo's expression when he's got to have you sign for _that_..."

"How about right after breakfast tomorrow we head out?"

Trowa smiled at his roommate. "Sounds great!"

* * *

While the two men at the farm were making their plans, Quatre and Duo were making plans of their own.

"So tomorrow after work, I'll swing by Howie's and pick up a bag of ice and some of that trail mix you like, and then stop at Hendersen's Grocery and get steaks and plenty of marshmallows and chocolate," Duo was saying, while he washed the dishes and Quatre dried them. "We can head out first thing Saturday, hike until sunset, and weather permitting, camp for the night and check out Chapman's Falls on our way back out to civilization on Sunday."

"You've done that trail before, right?" Quatre asked, his attention divided between Duo and the dishes. "Is it a hard one?"

"Naw," Duo assured him. "I wouldn't drag you up one of the bad ones, Quat. I know you're not as into roughing it as I am."

"Too true," Quatre agreed, thinking it was a bit early in the season for an overnight trek. "Any chance we'll stumble across your rhubarb vandal?"

"Depends," Duo shrugged. "The animal control officer over in Clearbrook said she found signs of a den up at the Indian caves last year. It wouldn't be far out of our way to check it out." He glanced briefly at his friend. "You really wanna encourage my wild goose chases?"

"You mean lion chases?" Quatre asked with a smirk. "I told you. If you believe the accounts of mountain lion sightings, I'll give it an honest effort."

Duo smiled brilliantly at him. "You're a pal, y'know."

"I'm trying to be."

"Hey, did I mention Hilde got a letter from Howard?"

"What'd he have to say?"

"Same old stuff—Florida's beautiful, the beaches are gorgeous, water's warm, and the weather's fine." Duo shook his head. "I suppose he deserves it. He delivered the mail route, and ran his convenience store for a lotta years. The man worked his ass off. 'Bout time he got to relax."

"I agree." Quatre had only ever met Howard once, when he first came to town and the old man was in the process of selling his shop to Hilde's father and getting ready to head for his retirement destination. But they'd hit it off very well. So well, in fact, that he'd taken to heart Howard's suggestion to rent a place with Duo. Prior to that, Duo had lived above the convenience store in a tiny apartment owned by Howard.

"He keeps tryin' to talk me into flying down there to visit," Duo added, frowning slightly at the pan he was scrubbing.

"Why don't you? You could afford it, you know." Quatre glanced sideways at him. "I know the Jeep costs a bit to maintain; but you make a decent wage."

"Yes, and I send a little bit of it to the orphanage in the city each month, too," Duo reminded him. "Even though it's not the old Maxwell Orphanage, I still wanna support it, y'know? In memory of Father Maxwell and Sister Helen. Then there's rent, utilities, repairs." He shrugged as if to dismiss the whole subject. "My extra money's going into savings so I can get an education and get out of this town," he added.

"But if you took a short trip—."

"—I might never come back," Duo finished for him. "Seriously, Quat, when I _do _leave this town, I don't want to have to come back. Going down to Florida to hang out with Howard would be like the world's biggest tease, y'know?"

"I guess."

"Besides, I like the way you and I hang out and do stuff. That's really all the vacation I need."

"Don't you ever want to travel, though?" Quatre asked with a frown. "See the world?"

"Is that what you want?"

"Well—no. Not any more," Quatre admitted. "You know what my childhood was like, Duo. We traveled all over creation—winters in the Caribbean, summers in Paris. I don't even remember what our house looked like; I saw so little of it. I want a place to call home and put down roots and _stay_."

"So why can't I want the same thing?" Duo wondered.

"Because you _have _that, and you hate it," Quatre pointed out.

"It's not that I hate being in one place and calling it home," Duo argued. "It's being in _this _place. Nothing ever changes here, Quat. Ever. At least, not for the better." He gave a weary sigh. "I mean, first Solo got adopted an' I didn't, which wasn't the end of the world, because he only lived up the road a ways, and we still were in school together. But then when he took off, everything just went downhill. I saw that stupid mountain lion and made the mistake of shooting my mouth off about it, which made me more of a laughingstock than being the gay, dumped guy did. And then the orphanage burned down, taking the last friends I had along with it."

"Not true," Quatre said quietly. "You still had Howard and Hilde. And I got here just a few months later." He looked earnestly at his friend. "You were never really alone, Duo. Not completely. And I'll bet if Solo had heard about the orphanage, he'd have come back."

Duo snorted skeptically. "Why would he have done that? It'd been two years. He probably had a whole new life and a new boyfriend by then."

"Yes, but, from what you've told me about him, I think he'd have cared enough to come pay his respects, and check on how you were doing."

"Well, he didn't," Duo said bitterly. "And how the heck did we end up on such a stupid, depressing subject anyway?"

"My fault," Quatre said with an apologetic smile. "I was trying to make you appreciate how homey and peaceful it is in Smoky Hills."

"I do appreciate that," Duo insisted. "I appreciate the way Mrs. Heinz makes cookies for me, and how Sally always knows exactly what I want for dinner when we hang out at the diner. An' I appreciate the way Hilde puts aside my favorite snacks when a new batch comes in." He looked up with a faint smile. "I really do see the good stuff about this place, Quat. Honest, I do. But you've gotta admit, life here has its down side."

"It has Otto and Trant," Quatre pointed out. "If they were gone, I'll bet you'd kind of enjoy living here."

"Maybe." Duo smirked a bit. "You suggesting we bump 'em off?"

"No!"

"Well, you did express an interest in making them 'gone,'" Duo noted.

"You're twisting my words," Quatre growled. "I just meant that maybe we should consider legal action the next time they try something."

"And how's that supposed to work? I'm supposed to convince cops who are second cousins of Trant's that they should arrest him? And you know Otto's dad could afford a whole fleet of lawyers to buy his son's way out of trouble."

"Yeah, well, not if it's big enough trouble," Quatre said darkly. "And running you off the road is pretty serious stuff."

"Only to you," Duo sighed.

"No, Duo. It's serious in _anyone's _estimation. At least in any rational person's mind." Quatre glared stubbornly at him. "Will you at least promise me that the next time they pull anything remotely as dangerous, that you'll come with me to the police about it? If they don't act on it, I'm willing to contact one of my sisters, who happens to be a lawyer and who still talks to me. She'd be willing to help you press charges, I'm sure. And she does a lot of pro bono work, so it'd be right up her alley."

Duo gave a frustrated sigh. "If it'll get you to stop hounding me, yes, I'll file charges next time—if only so I can say 'I told you so' when the judge laughs the case out of court."

Quatre smirked in satisfaction. "Deal!" he agreed quickly, before Duo could change his mind.

* * *

True to his word, the first thing Friday morning Heero led the way out into the forest shortly after breakfast, with the two dogs on leashes, and Trowa at his side. He'd also brought a backpack containing a map of their property and the surrounding area, a compass, some bottled water, a rope and a flashlight. He didn't believe in going unprepared. He'd even included packets of dog treats, in case either animal got loose, and some trail mix and sandwiches.

"You took your pain pills, right?" he asked Trowa as they headed out across the meadow where he and the dogs ran every morning.

"Yes, I did."

"And you're wearing the brace?"

"Yes."

"Is the one crutch going to be enough if you get tired?"

"For fuck's sake, yes!" Trowa blurted. "Honestly, Heero, when did you become such a nag?"

"When the rope on the trapeze broke and you nearly fell to your death!" Heero retorted. He stopped in his tracks and turned to face his friend. "You have no idea what it felt like to be sitting there when that happened, Trowa. I thought for sure you were going to fall. And as grateful as I am that you were able to tangle a leg in the remaining rope and dangle there until help arrived, I will never forget the sight, okay?"

Trowa hung his head sheepishly. "I'm sorry, 'Ro," he said softly. "I keep forgetting how badly I scared you." He looked up from under his bangs. "But that's history," he reminded him. "Even if I wanted to go back, my knee wouldn't be safe for high-wire or trapeze work. And you know I'm not going back."

"I do," Heero acknowledged. "But I still can't help but be a bit overprotective. I saw how badly you got hurt, and I don't ever want you to have to endure that kind of pain again." He frowned sternly. "Do you want to have to have more surgery?"

"No!" Trowa said quickly—vehemently. He recalled all too well how painful the injury had been, as well as the surgery to repair it. He never wanted to damage himself so severely again.

"Then promise me we'll go slow and easy, and that if you feel pain or fatigue, you _will _tell me."

"Of course."

They proceeded on their way then, more relaxed than before, and by mid-morning had covered a few miles of trail at a leisurely pace.

"It's really beautiful out here," Trowa said a bit breathlessly, as they took a break and drank some water from bottles they'd brought along.

"I imagine in the fall it will be spectacular," Heero agreed, picturing the trees in full autumn color.

"I see why Ephraim chose to settle here."

"Hai." Heero looked around them, pulling out the map and compass and taking a reading. "I think if we head east, it will take us along the ridge above the reservoir. You might like the view from up there."

"After our talk about falling from great heights?" Trowa teased, loathe to admit he wasn't entirely kidding.

Heero looked at him with narrowed eyes, and then nodded. "Okay then—we'll head back towards the dam. It'll be closer to the road, and if there was a body stashed anywhere, it probably wasn't carried all that far from it."

"You really think there was a murder."

"I see no other explanation for Thor's find."

"I guess I'd just like to find out that maybe a hiker stumbled and fell and the body was never found," Trowa mused.

"That's a possibility," Heero conceded. "But a hiker would have probably been on a trail, and someone else should have stumbled across the body before now." He shook his head as if to clear it. "Let's stick to one theory at a time, shall we? For now, we just want to find more remains, if possible, and maybe provide Chang's lab with enough data to make some sort of identification—or at least a way to hypothesize about cause of death and chronology."

Trowa grinned good-naturedly. "I love it when you talk all technical like that," he teased. "Kinda sexy, bro'."

"Shut up," Heero grumbled, thwapping him on the back of the head with the map before stuffing it into the pack.

They continued on their way, covering a couple more miles before Trowa felt the telltale ache in his knee and realized he'd have to make good on his promise soon.

"We stopping for lunch?" he asked, hoping maybe that pausing to rest would help him shake off the fatigue.

Heero stopped, looking at the dogs, who were tugging at the leashes, and then looking at Trowa's face. "You're tired, aren't you?"

"A bit," he admitted.

"Then we'll stop." Heero quickly tied off the dog leashes, using the length of rope he'd brought along, so they had extra room to move around.

While he dug in the backpack for their meal, Trowa found a log to sit on, near a flat-topped rock. "Hey, look! A dining room set," he quipped.

His roommate smirked back, setting a sandwich in front of him, as well as a bag of trail mix. "It's not gourmet cuisine—but it'll have to do."

"Works for me." Trowa dug in, while Heero dragged over a small log to prop between two boulders so he could sit up off the ground as well.

Thor and Balder immediately came nosing around, looking for a handout, and Heero sighed and dug out a few dog treats to appease them.

"Why don't you let 'em off the leads for a bit?" Trowa suggested. "They've been good about staying close lately."

"I haven't given them a chance to do otherwise," Heero pointed out.

"Well it might do them some good to stretch their legs then," Trowa added. "And they'll stop giving me the big, sad eyes while I eat my sandwich."

Heero laughed and shook his head, turning the dogs loose and pocketing the leashes, so they could roam around a bit and leave the two men in peace while they ate.

Both dogs immediately trotted across the clearing to investigate a rabbit burrow, and Heero figured they'd be intrigued enough to stick around. So he relaxed and enjoyed his meal.

"I like it out here," Trowa spoke up suddenly. "Are we still on our land, or State property?"

"We're still on the Barton farm," Heero replied. "Though, I think there's a road a mile or two in that direction, and the land around it is probably State Forest."

"You think Thor and Balder could've gotten this far the day they found the bone?"

"Hard to say. When Thor took off after a deer that time, he was covering some serious ground."

"Yes, but if they dug out of their enclosure, wouldn't they have just been nosing around out of boredom?"

"Not if they saw another deer," Heero countered. "But maybe we can focus our efforts between here and home as we head back after lunch. That way we'll cover the places they might have gone if they weren't really running."

He finished his sandwich a moment later, and began packing up their stuff.

"Want me to call the dogs?" Trowa asked.

Heero looked up realizing Thor and Balder had disappeared into the dense undergrowth. "Did you see which way they went?"

"Through those bushes." Trowa gave a whistle. "Balder! Thor!"

Balder stepped out of the underbrush, trotting obediently over to the auburn-haired man. "One down, one to go," he quipped.

"Thor!" Heero called sternly.

There was no response, and Heero cursed under his breath, tossing one of the leashes to Trowa before heading in the direction from which Balder had appeared. "Thor, come!"

He still got no answer, either in the form of a bark or the reappearance of his missing dog.

"Goddamnit, Thor," he muttered, pushing through the laurel bushes and down into a hollow filled with decaying leaves and old branches. There was no path here, and so he forged his own, heading in the general direction he hoped the dog had gone.

"Heero?" he heard from behind him.

"Stay put, Trowa. I'll be back as soon as I round up the damned dog!"

Heero hiked up the far side of the hollow, reaching the crest of a small ridge and scanning the forest ahead for his wayward hound. "Thor! Come here, you brat!"

He heard a distant bark and turned aside, heading for a thicker part of the woods, and hoping he wouldn't end up lost out there. His concern grew as it seemed to take an inordinate amount of time to make any progress in the heavy brush, but he heard another bark and the scrabbling of claws on wood, so he pressed onward.

And finally he emerged into a small clearing, to find the dog half-submerged under a fallen tree, digging furiously and sending dirt scattering behind him in all directions.

"Thor, no!" he bellowed, running over to attach a leash and pull the dog away from its quarry, afraid he might have cornered a skunk or something even more dangerous.

But as he pulled the dog back, it hastily grabbed something out of the loose soil and brought it along.

"Drop it!" he ordered, glaring sternly at Thor.

The wolfhound sat in place and then very grudgingly set down a white, spindly-looking thing that turned out to be the skeletal remains of a human hand.

"Fuck," Heero breathed, sinking down onto the nearest flat surface and staring in awe. "You actually found it," he said in wonder, looking back at the shaggy dog, who was panting happily, his tongue lolled out and dirt encrusting the whiskers around his mouth.


	23. Lost and Found

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing, bigotry, some OOC

Pairings: 1X2 eventually, 3X4 also eventually

SMOKY HILLS

_"Jacob and Annabelle were married today, in a small, quiet ceremony. She was a lovely bride; and he was a perfectly dashing groom. I wish my Eliza was still alive to see our boy wed. But then again, if she'd lived, things might have turned out differently. Jacob was such a bright and happy child before her death, and so somber and quiet after. I can't help but wonder if the gentle love of a mother would have made him a better man. A father can only do so much...especially when he has a farm to run as well as a child to raise. Perhaps I should have married again, if only to have a mother figure for Jacob. But no one ever compared to my beloved Eliza…"_

_—excerpt from the private journal of Ephraim Barton_

Chapter Twenty Three: Lost and Found

"Trowa!" Heero shouted, hoping his companion could hear him at this distance. "Trowa—he found it!"

"Coming!" he heard faintly through the trees.

Taking a moment to tie the dog's leash around a sturdy sapling, Heero then went over to the excavation the animal had begun, and surveyed the array of scattered dirt, hoping there wasn't too much destroyed.

He was heartened to see very few bones in the disturbed soil. But he did find the ends of larger ones protruding from under the decaying log—as if someone had placed a body in a shallow grave and then shoved a log on top—or perhaps dug under the already-fallen tree and shoved the body beneath it. Either way, he had no doubt it was the rest of the skeleton belonging to the tibia he'd already sent to Chang.

"Heero—?" came a gasping voice, as Trowa hobbled into the clearing, using his crutch as he'd promised, and leading Balder by the leash. "Seriously—he found the rest of the bones?"

Heero gestured to the remains, careful not to touch them and risk disturbing more than Thor already had. "He found them," he said with a smile.

Trowa sank down onto a boulder. "Thank God. Don't think I could've made it another yard—!"

"I told you to tell me if you got tired."

"I did—but I thought maybe we'd head back home after I rested. I didn't anticipate hauling ass up here to catch up to you."

Heero looked around, trying to judge where they were on Barton's property. "We might be near the road around the reservoir, Trowa. How 'bout if you stay here with the dogs to keep the site secure, while I go home and get the car?"

Trowa started to shake his head, but then thought better of it as Heero cast him a narrow look. "O-okay. Maybe that's a good idea. Guess I'm more out of shape than I thought."

"Just your knee," Heero insisted, walking over and patting his friend on the shoulder. "I shouldn't have let you come this far with me. But I didn't realize how much rougher the terrain would get." He glanced up at the angle of the sun, judging it to be past noon already. "Just sit tight. Shouldn't take me more than a couple of hours to get home and bring the car around—if that. I'll take Thor with me, so you'll only have Balder to deal with. He'll probably lie down and sleep the whole time I'm gone."

Trowa nodded, reaching out to scratch the wolfhound behind an ear. "We'll be fine," he assured Heero. "I like being out in the woods. Just wish I could go the distance these days."

"You will. The surgeons said the knee would eventually be as good as new, if you follow through on the therapy and exercises, and you have been." Heero glanced back at the grave site, shaking his head. "Poor bastard," he muttered. "Wonder who he was—."

"Your pal Chang should be able to figure that out, now that we've found all the remains."

"Well—most. If Thor brought home some, other scavengers might have carted off other parts. But I suspect the skull will be underground deep enough that we'll find it intact, and then dental records might make it possible to make a positive identification."

"Get to it, then," Trowa urged. "Give Chang a call about getting his team out here, like he said."

"I will. And I suppose I'll need locals out here to secure the site until then. I'll call the cops from the house—the cell reception out here is crap."

Heero hurried off, moving a lot faster without Trowa to worry about, and letting Thor jog easily at his side, the hound's long legs keeping pace without effort.

He made it home in under an hour, admittedly out of breath and sweaty, but energized by the excitement of finding the remains. After settling Thor in the kitchen with a dish of fresh water, he went to the phone and quickly dialed Wufei's private cell number.

"Chang here."

"It's Heero. We found the rest of the remains."

"Why am I not surprised?" came a faintly amused voice. "I take it you need my mobile crew out there to canvass the site."

"Well it's for damn sure the locals wouldn't be up to the task," Heero replied, trying to keep his tone neutral.

"It's just killing you not to call them morons, isn't it?" Wufei said with an audible grin. "Feel free, though. Because after my brief conversation with that Officer Kurt, I had to spend an hour reading the dictionary to recharge my brain cells."

Heero laughed aloud, having almost forgotten his former lover's scathing wit. "I can't talk long right now," he said with a bit of regret. "I left Trowa out in the middle of the woods guarding the location, while I came back here to call you and the local morons."

He got a chuckle in return. "Where shall I have my crew meet you? And I mean _you_. Again, I will not deal directly with those small-town twits. I want someone responsible and competent to direct my staff, and act as a liaison."

"How many hours will it take your people to get here?"

"Hm." Chang considered for a moment. "They're all back from lunch, and not out on any major cases. So I can have them on their way by five. Allow for six hours of driving time, and they'll reach you around eleven o'clock tonight."

"Jeeze, 'Fei," Heero said uncertainly. "Maybe you should have them wait until morning, so they wouldn't be working in the dark."

"Not a problem, and you know it. They've got portable equipment—plenty of lights they can set up to illuminate the area. And you know it'll take a full twenty-four hours or more for them to thoroughly vet the location." He lapsed into a smooth, reassuring tone. "Don't worry about inconveniencing them, or me. I've already obtained authorization, as you know. Now, where shall they meet you?"

Heero thought for a moment, and finally gave Wufei directions to the dam across the reservoir, as it was an easily-identifiable landmark. "From there, I'll lead the way to the nearest road access to the dump site."

"And dare I hope a cell phone might work from that location, so they can call you if they run into any delays?"

"I think cell reception is okay near the dam itself," Heero said carefully. "But either way, they can call the house phone. I won't let Trowa come back out tonight. He's done enough to his knee hiking with me to find the remains."

"How is he?" Wufei asked, his voice a bit less curt.

"Great, actually," Heero told him enthusiastically. "He's been off the crutches for days now. But walking up and down rocky, uneven trails today wore him out."

"I'm surprised you let him."

"As he pointed out, he's a grown man, Chang. And he promised to tell me if it got to be too much." Heero couldn't help but reflect that Trowa actually _had _admitted to his fatigue. Clearly he needed to lighten up a bit, and let the other man judge his own capabilities. "Speaking of him, I've got to get back up there. He's got one of the dogs with him, but there are bears, bobcats, and all kinds of wild animals in these woods. I really don't want to leave him much longer."

"Get to it then. I'll contact your local police department."

"But—."

"I know I said I won't deal with them, but I can make this one vital call for you. They'll take orders better from me anyway, and you know it," Wufei said firmly. "Expect them to call you later, when you've gotten Trowa home. You can lead them up to the place to secure it until my people get there. I'll have the crew call both your cell and the house phones when they get close to your general location, so you can meet them. And I'll expect you to keep in touch throughout this investigation."

Well, Heero _had _known there'd be no avoiding that. And surprisingly, he found comfort in Chang's calm professionalism during such an unexpected crisis. "Wufei—thank you," he said simply, before hanging up.

Heero made sure the birds were fed, and grabbed a jacket for himself and one for Trowa, figuring that as the afternoon waned, they might get cold. He also had the presence of mind to take along an old drop cloth, so they'd have something to mark the clearing with, for when he had to bring the cops in after dark. Nothing like a white sheet to stand out against an inky black forest.

He headed out to the car then, eager to get back to Trowa and bring him safely home.

He was so preoccupied that he very nearly ran into Duo's Jeep at the end of the driveway, as the mailman was pulling away from the box. But a quick stomp on the brakes enabled him to stop just short of the familiar vehicle and in time for Duo to notice him and wave cheerily as he drove off.

"Shit," he muttered under his breath. "That is _not _the kind of impression I want to make on him."

He focused more on his driving, and headed for the road he'd noticed on the map, that seemed to be closest to where they'd found the remains.

"Dibble Hollow Road," he noted as he pulled onto the narrow lane, driving past several logging roads and a lookout point over the reservoir, before he neared the edges of the Barton property, where it abutted the State Forest. "Gotta be near here," he decided, pulling off onto a rutted lane and parking far enough in that it was unlikely anyone would notice the car while he was out locating his roommate.

He got out, grabbing the coats and of course his map and compass, before heading in a westerly direction, seeking a bit of high ground so he could call out for his partner. More quickly than he'd expected, he found himself practically immersed in the thick underbrush, and he began to regret not bringing Thor along. Or maybe a gun.

He wished it even more as his progress seemed tortuously slow through the rugged terrain. And he chided himself for not having brought Trowa home with him, even though it would have meant a longer hike for his recovering friend; at least they'd have been sure of their directions.

Casting a wary eye upwards, he saw that the sun was noticeably lower in the sky than it had been when he left Trowa, and for the first time he felt a bit worried. Much as he enjoyed the outdoors, he hadn't spent so much time in it that he considered himself any kind of woodsman. And if he got lost—who would help Trowa make his way home?

"Trowa!" he called a bit frantically. "Balder!"

In the distance ahead he heard an answering bark, and he let out relieved breath, his anxiety subsiding. He picked up the pace, eager to be reunited and know that Trowa was safe.

"Trowa!" he called again as he neared the place he thought the bark had originated.

"Over here!"

He broke into the clearing, breathing a sigh of relief at the sight of Trowa comfortably resting against a tree with Balder curled up by his side. "Are you okay?"

Trowa looked up at him in surprise. "I'm fine. Jeeze, Yuy. You look like hell. What'd you do, crawl through the bushes to get here?"

Heero ran a hand back through his sweaty bangs, and felt twigs and leaves caught in the strands. "Might as well have," he admitted. "There's no real path from the road to here."

He held out a jacket, and Trowa took it with a smirk. "Thanks. But if the way you're panting and sweating is any indication, I probably won't need this."

"I'm sweating because I practically ran all the way from the road to here," Heero said with a shrug. "I didn't like your being out in the middle of nowhere with nothing but a dog for protection. I was worried."

Trowa smiled gently at him. "I can see that." He pushed himself upright, using his crutch to hobble close enough to throw an arm around his roommate. "Thanks, buddy."

"Don't mention it. You wanna help me tear some strips off this sheet so we can hang banners from the trees to help me find this place later, in the dark?"

"Oh—hadn't thought of that," Trowa admitted, accepting a piece of cloth and proceeding to rip it into long pieces. "How many trees do you want to mark?"

"As many as possible, so that when I shine a flashlight, they'll stand out."

They spent a solid fifteen minutes stretching to reach the highest possible points along tree trunks and branches, finally creating an oddly Halloween-like look in the clearing.

"Shoulda brought a roll of toilet paper," Trowa joked as he tossed a long strip of fabric up over a branch. "We could've thrown it higher."

"As long as it's easy to spot from a distance—. That's all that matters."

"I think it will be. Your only trick will be finding this particular hollow in the dark, so your light can pick up the pieces of sheet."

Heero looked around them at the clearing, realizing it was indeed a bit lower than the surrounding landscape. "Shit," he muttered. "It's going to be pure hell trying to lead a forensic team in here in the middle of the night."

"Chang's people?" Trowa guessed, pulling on the jacket since it was easier than carrying it while using the crutch.

"Yes. They should hit town around eleven, if things go well. And I'll have to be able to show them the way in here." He looked around them, trying to memorize landmarks that could be found in the dark.

"We could leave a trail of bread crumbs," Trowa smirked, gesturing to a few bits of bread left from his sandwich.

"Very funny. Would you be Hansel, or Gretel?"

"I dunno. But Balder would be the little bird that ate the crumbs." He pointed to the wolfhound, who was happily snuffling around the clearing for any trace of leftover trail mix or sandwich.

"Let's just get out of here, and maybe blaze a bit of a trail on our way," Heero suggested, snapping a small branch on a mountain laurel bush so that the fresh break showed. "Easiest way is to leave markers by breaking branches, or piling rocks in the shape of an arrow showing directions. We can use bits of leftover sheet to tie to branches along the way, too."

"Whoa. I'm impressed." Trowa handed off Balder's leash and fell in step behind his roommate. "I'm also tired as hell. So let's get home, and I promise to never bother you to take me hiking again."

"A likely story," Heero scoffed, his humor returning in the wake of his relief at finding Trowa again.

"You know," Trowa mused as they walked. "If the local cops gossip about this like they did about the first bone, we'll have a bigger problem than just a few kids having fires and leaving trash on the property. There'll be all kinds of curiosity-seekers wanting to scope out the place a body was buried."

"Ugh. Don't remind me," Heero sighed. "I'll have to put up dozens more 'no trespassing' signs."

"Yeah, you will. Unless you can convince the cops to keep their mouths shut."

"How would I do that?"

"Well, maybe if we threaten to call them constantly to have folks arrested for trespassing, they'll decide it's worth their while to keep quiet about the location. I mean, people might know the remains were found somewhere near the reservoir; but they don't need to know if it was on State land or private."

"True. When I talk to them this evening, I'll bring that to their attention." Heero glanced over his shoulder at his limping roommate. "As for you—when we get home, you're going to take some pain meds and soak in a hot bath, while I make supper. I'll deal with the police after I've made sure you're squared away."

"You'll get no argument from me," Trowa assured him. "I'm headed straight for bed."

True to his word, he bathed, rested, ate a quick meal, and then crashed headlong into his mattress; he was asleep and snoring peacefully, long before Heero even took the call from the local police, and slipped out of the house to meet with them.

* * *

About the same time as Chang's forensic crew was arriving and setting up their equipment the next morning, Duo and Quatre were rolling out of bed, dressing and grabbing a quick breakfast, and putting the final touches on their weekend preparations.

Duo shoved the cooler into the back seat of the Jeep and tossed his backpack beside it, pausing to double check the buckles and make sure it was secure. He'd once hiked half a day with stuff trickling out the back of his pack, until he stopped for lunch and realized most of his supplies were long gone.

"Smart move," Quatre told him, shoving his own gear in from the other side. "You serious about staying out overnight?"

"Yep."

"Gonna be cold."

Duo leered teasingly. "I'll keep ya warm."

Quatre merely rolled his eyes. "You're all talk," he accused. "I know it's not me you wanna snuggle."

"Any port in a storm?"

He got a skeptical snort in reply, and the blonde closed up his side of the car and went around the back to check for their bottled water and tent stakes. "Speaking of storms," he mused. "Maybe we ought to bring a couple of tarps."

"Not supposed to rain all weekend," Duo shrugged. "But it wouldn't hurt to be prepared, Scout Winner." Quatre looked up quickly and Duo grinned and flipped him the Boy Scout salute.

"Not funny, Maxwell. I always wanted to be one, but my dad never let me."

Duo pouted prettily. "Poor, underprivileged rich boy," he sighed. "You were so deprived."

Quatre couldn't help blushing, recalling the times he'd told Duo about the opulent European vacations his parents had dragged him on as a child. "Well, I was deprived of _normal_," he pointed out.

"That you were," Duo agreed, slamming his door and hopping into the driver's seat. "Which is why I'm gonna give you all the 'normal' you ever wanted! Let's get hiking, buddy!"

Quatre held up a finger. "One sec. I meant it about the tarp. I'm gonna grab one out of the garage." He suited actions to words, and ducked inside to fetch one of the folded tarps they had on the workbench.

When he climbed in, and threw it into the back seat, Duo started up the vehicle. "All right! We're off!"

He headed out of town, taking the road that led up around the reservoir, since it was the most direct way to the best camping areas in the surrounding hills.

"So—," Duo commented, fiddling with the radio for a bit, before turning it off in favor of conversation. "When I went to fill up the Jeep yesterday, Hilde said she heard from Mister Gunderson that there's gonna be a service station opening up down in Lakeville. Trying to take business away from both of them, I think."

"Oh, that's low."

"Yeah, but I don't think it'll hurt 'em much. No one wants to drive all the way to Lakeville for gas, and folks around here trust Gunderson to give them quality service. I think they'll be okay." Duo said firmly.

"I hope so. It's got to be hard for Hilde, keeping up with the competition."

"I think she worries too much, though," Duo asserted. "Howard left her a solid customer base when her dad bought her the business. All she's had to do is keep stocking what people buy, and be her sweet, charming self." He gave a wistful smile. "People like her," he pointed out. "She's perky."

Quatre chuckled. "If I didn't know you, I might wonder if you were talking about a certain part of her anatomy. _Perky_, Duo?"

The braided man grinned. "It's a perfectly good word, Quat," he insisted. "And it doesn't _always _have to refer to breasts. Although, those are perky, too."

"As if you'd looked—."

"Whoa!" Duo said abruptly, hitting the brakes rather hard.

Quatre looked up sharply, and frowned in confusion. "What the hell—?"

Ahead of them were two police cars, pulled well off the road, but with lights flashing, and parked along the sides were several of the local volunteer firemen's private vehicles, as well as a big, black van with Sanc Institute of Forensic Pathology on the side.

Alex was out directing traffic, though there wasn't much that early in the morning, while a few of the firemen milled around drinking coffee, and some other men carried buckets and tools towards the trail into the woods.

Duo pulled up beside the cop and rolled down his window. "What's going on, Brown? Someone take a header in the Gorge again?"

It was fairly common for accidents to happen along the remote mountain stream. Between the waterfalls where kids liked to swim in the summer, and the deep gorge that ran through steep, rocky ledge, that stretch of river was fairly treacherous. At least once or twice every summer, a rescue operation was mounted to pull a stranded swimmer off a mossy boulder where he'd gotten trapped, or to carry someone out who'd broken an arm or leg going over the falls.

"Don't I wish?" Alex said sourly. "Looks like that Barton guy found the rest of the bones to go along with the one he turned in before."

"You mean Yuy?" Duo corrected automatically.

"Huh?"

"Yuy. That's the guy living with Barton," Duo explained. "His dog was the one that found the first bone, wasn't it?"

"Guess so." Alex pulled his jacket a little tighter, shivering in the cool morning air. "Asshole called the forensic people from Sanc, and their boss ordered us to 'secure the area,' and make sure no one disturbed the remains before his team showed up. Had us out here all night taping off the area and standing guard until the van showed up a couple of hours ago."

"Wow," Quatre breathed, eyes widening as he looked over the sleek truck and the uniformed people surrounding it. "Looks like they sent in the National Guard practically."

"Might as well have," Alex sneered. "Ten or fifteen of 'em—all arrogant as hell—ordering us around and acting like they own the freakin' place!"

Duo couldn't help smirking at the officer's annoyance. There was no love lost between Alex and him—not any more—and he kind of enjoyed seeing him inconvenienced. "Well if it's on the Barton farm, then Mister Barton would be the one who owns the freakin' place," he pointed out.

"Haven't even _seen_ him," Alex retorted. "Just that Japanese guy showing us where to put up the tape around the clearing, and now the forensic jerks." He shook his head. "Y'ask me, it's all a waste of time. It's not like you could solve a murder that happened decades ago, right? So what's the point?"

Duo's smirk widened into a grin. "I'd say they did it just to drag your sorry ass out of bed in the middle of the night," he suggested. "_That's_ the point."

Alex snorted wryly, not taking the snide comment personally. "You'd think they could've at least waited until this morning to call us in. That freakin' skeleton wasn't goin' anywhere—."

"Speaking of which," Quatre commented, nudging Duo with an elbow. "We've got hiking to do."

"Oh yeah." Duo couldn't seem to drag his fascinated gaze away from the van from Sanc and the bustling crew around it. "Gotta go, Al," he said absently, shifting back into gear.

The cop stood aside and let them continue on their way up the winding mountain road.

"Well, shit," Duo said quietly.

"Hm?"

"Never thought they'd find _more_ human bones," mused the braided man. "I thought it was a fluke when that first one turned up."

"Weren't you the one going on about how Old Man Barton probably shot a tax man?"

"Yeah, but I was kidding," Duo shrugged. "I never expected there to really be a body out here."

"Me neither," Quatre admitted. "How bizarre."

"Sure is. But then, that's par for the course around here," Duo replied. "Everything's bizarre in Smoky Hills."

"You keep saying that," Quatre pointed out. "But it's just like any other small town anywhere."

"No, it's not."

"Why not?"

"Because—." Duo frowned, his expression going a bit distant. "I dunno, Quat. It's just—it's a really old hill town, an' most of the families have been here for generations. There's a lot of—history. Old grudges. Ghosts of the past. Shit like that."

"Ghosts?" Quatre rolled his eyes.

"I'm not talking about white sheets and moans in the night," Duo protested. "I mean, there are plenty of _those _kinds of ghost stories, too. But I'm talking about things that have happened here over the years." He shot an almost accusing look at his friend. "You've been in the library and read some of the history of the town; feuds between families—between business partners who turned into enemies. Then there was that section of town they flooded to make the reservoir, back at the turn of the century. Folks were put out of their homes; their farms destroyed—whole lives just laid to ruin, y'know?" He shook his head, looking very serious. "Shit like that leaves a mark on a place, Quatre—a _taste_. And Smoky Hills has a really, really bitter taste, because of everything that happened in the past."

"Jesus, Duo," breathed his friend. "You talk about this town like it's a living thing, almost. It's just a place. A location. Nothing more."

"You're wrong," Duo said flatly.

He drove for a moment or two in silence, and then visibly shook off the somber mood. "Hey, Quat, what d'you want for supper tonight? We could grill up the steaks over a fire, or try catching some fish, if you're up for that."

"Oh, fish sounds nice," Quatre said quickly, jumping on the topic like a drowning man on a life raft. "But I didn't pack any of our gear."

"I brought the fold-up fishing pole," Duo assured him. "And some of that fake, canned bait that always works. We can probably make camp and catch a couple of brook trout in time for dinner, if we make good time hiking in."

"Hm. Then it's a good thing I have those Boy Scout tendencies," Quatre joked back. "I wore my best hiking boots and brought plenty of energy bars."

"Figuring we'd need to live on granola and bottled water again?" Duo teased, referring to one of their earliest camping trips, when each had assumed the other packed food, and they'd literally had to scrounge for berries and munch on snack bars the whole time.

"I like to have all my bases covered." Quatre rubbed his flat stomach. "I like regular meals, you know."

"Don't we all?"

It didn't take long to reach the old logging road where they planned to park. Duo had been shown the location years before by an old conservation officer, who'd enjoyed sharing his knowledge of the wilderness with a curious and eager hiker.

"I figure we can take the hiking path as far as Eagle Ridge, and then grab a game trail heading out towards the summit," Duo told his roommate, as they bounced along the familiar, rutted track.

"We're camping up high?"

"Yeah. This time of year there won't be any thunderstorms. So I thought we could enjoy the view."

"View?" Quatre pondered for a moment. "Did you bring binoculars?"

"I always do. Why?"

"We could try to spot the police cars, and figure out where the skeleton was found."

"We already know, more or less."

"We know where the staging area was," Quatre corrected him. "But the actual crime scene could be a couple of miles into the woods. Did you see all the gear they were carrying—like they expected to stay out there a couple of days?"

"_Crime_ scene?" Duo rolled his eyes. "Are we back on that subject again?"

"Well don't you find it kind of interesting—in a creepy sort of way?"

"No."

"You're not at all curious?"

"Sure I am," shrugged his friend. "But not enough to let it ruin my weekend. Besides, whatever the lab guys discover—it'll be all over town by next week."

"Yes, but—."

"Quat. Stop. I really want to just have a good time out in the fresh air this weekend. And if you keep going on about the skeleton, I won't. Just—let the dead rest for now, hm?"

The blonde sighed, and nodded, realizing that it was something Duo didn't wish to dwell on right then. "So," he said brightly, once again trying to salvage the mood. "What do mountain lion tracks look like, anyway?"


	24. Cries in the Dark

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing, bigotry, some OOC

Pairings: 1X2 eventually, 3X4 also eventually

SMOKY HILLS

_"Annabelle is a lovely daughter-in-law. As accomplished a cook as my Eliza was, she makes our meals and tends house while Jacob and I work on their home. For their wedding present, I gave them the acreage at the foot of Burr Mountain, where some of the best grazing land and water can be found. Jacob and I have already laid out the foundation, and are hard at work preparing the site for what will become their new home. Much as I enjoy their company, I know they need a place of their own; a place to raise their children and build a future together._

_I hope they have a chance to enjoy that future. There is talk of a civil war between the Northern States and the Southern ones. It seems far away from here, and yet two local boys already ran off to join the Army. The young always have such idealistic notions. They believe in whatever cause sets their blood afire, and they feel they are invincible_—_immortal. But I know all too well, no one is immortal; not Eliza, and certainly not poor Aaron…"_

—_excerpt from the private journal of Ephraim Barton_

Chapter Twenty Four: Cries in the Dark

Heero looked over at Trowa, who was huddled in a bulky jacket, sitting on a fallen log and watching the forensic crew work. "Are you cold?"

"Not very," Trowa replied absently.

It was mid-morning on Saturday, and they'd been watching Chang's people work for over two hours, once Trowa convinced Heero to take him back out via the shorter access from the road past the reservoir.

Heero's "you promised to never bug me about taking you hiking again" argument hadn't held up against his roommate's pleading.

He gave Trowa sidelong look. "Do you really find it all that fascinating—watching them sift through dirt for bone fragments?"

Trowa looked squarely at him. "Actually, yes. I mean, sure, you've seen this kinda stuff plenty of times—but I never have. It amazes me the way they've laid things out—a tarp for putting each piece on until someone can label it and load it into that box over there—tags for identification—." He shook his head, looking a bit awed. "They've got a regular assembly line going. It's very efficient."

"It would have to be," Heero said dryly. "They work for Chang."

Trowa gave a wry chuckle. "Good point." He studied his roommate's face. "Don't you find it at all intriguing—what they do? They piece together an entire body, one part at a time. That's gotta be hard work—."

"No harder for them than crossing a high wire was for you."

"Once you learn the skill, it's not so hard—."

"Exactly."

Trowa gave a lopsided grin. "Okay. I see your point. But at least admit that they have some pretty impressive specialized skills."

"Of course."

Both men turned sharply as a technician let out a victorious yell. "Got the skull! Looks like there's full dentition left, too!"

His co-workers flocked to help him carefully ease his prize out of the dirt.

"Well that will be helpful, won't it?" Trowa mused.

"It will if the person ever went to a dentist," Heero said with a bit less enthusiasm.

"Oh. Right." Trowa looked around at the clearing, while the forensic crew continued their efforts. "You s'pose my great-grandfather's still is somewhere nearby?"

"The body wasn't put here by your great-grandfather," Heero said firmly. "Chang guessed it had been dumped no more than ten years ago."

"Okay," Trowa conceded. "Samuel's off the hook. What about my grandfather?"

"Dekim?" Heero looked sharply at him. "Why would he kill someone and hide the body?" His gaze narrowed. "What have you read, Barton?"

"Nothing like that," Trowa replied with a shake of his head. "But with the way the old man ranted about trespassers, I gotta wonder."

"Maybe we can ask around and learn more about him," Heero suggested.

Trowa pondered a moment and then grinned enthusiastically. "I know just the place to start! Ask the mailman."

Heero scowled at him.

"Aw, c'mon. You _know_ you're attracted."

"So?"

"So _act_ on it," Trowa urged. "Invite the guy out for coffee. Go out in public and show those assholes who picked on him that he's not alone any more." He gave a stern look. "Follow your emotions."

"What do you know about my emotions?" came a gruff response.

"I know they're making you worry about Duo." He nudged his roommate with an elbow. "Since I'm back on my feet, you need someone new to look after."

Heero gave a frustrated sigh. "What makes you think Duo's interested in me, rather than you? After all, he _did _tell me to say 'hi' to you that day I saw him in the grocery store. And he called you my 'good looking' roommate."

"Really?" Trowa beamed at Heero. "So the guy's got taste. Did you tell him he's a 'looker' himself?"

"No. I told him I agreed that you were attractive."

Trowa slapped a palm against his own forehead. "Wrong, Heero! Wrong answer!" He glared into the blue eyes. "He probably thinks you and I are a couple." He shook his head hopelessly. "How many times am I gonna have to save you from yourself?"

"What?" Heero blurted. "I don't need saving, Barton—."

"Of course you do—before your inept social skills scare off the nicest guy you've ever met!" Trowa stood and brushed himself off. "C'mon—I need a ride home, so I can properly prepare for this."

"For what?" Heero asked suspiciously. "What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to dig through Dekim's journals and look for any references to this location, and then first thing Monday, I'm gonna stop at the post office to talk to Duo about my ancestors."

Heero frowned warily. "What does any of that have to do with saving me from myself?"

"I'm going to make sure that by the end of the conversation, Duo knows we're _brothers_, not lovers."

"Trowa—!"

"What?" demanded the green-eyed man, crossing his arms and glaring.

Heero glared back. "Just how do you expect to blurt that out without him realizing you're trying to play matchmaker?" he demanded. "And like I said before, what makes you think it's not _you _he's interested in?"

Trowa hesitated and finally shrugged. Looking back on the one time he'd met Duo, and how well they'd hit it off, he couldn't rule out the possibility.

But then again, maybe the fact that they'd been instantly comfortable with each other was an indicator. After all, Trowa had been nearly tongue-tied when he met the blonde postmaster—and Quatre had been quite obviously flustered. That encounter had reeked of nervous attraction.

The one with Duo had been too relaxed to even suggest any hidden emotions. Shyness, perhaps; Duo was obviously not used to meeting friendly people, and had been tentative about it. But there'd been no undercurrent of sexual tension—at least not in Trowa's mind.

"You're thinking about this a little too hard," Heero commented smugly. "You want to rethink your preference in hair color? Since you're so appreciative of the mailman's looks, maybe the quantity of hair could make up for its not being blonde."

"I'm not that shallow, you know," Trowa snapped."Just because he's a brunet, doesn't mean I'd automatically write him off."

"Really?" Heero drawled. "What exactly makes you 'write someone off'?"

"For starters," Trowa replied with a glare. "I don't write _anyone _off based on looks alone. I'd need to get to know them first."

"So, someone who looked like Gus the Dog-Faced Man would be in contention?" smirked Heero.

Trowa grimaced. "Okay. I get the point. There's got to be _some _physical attraction, I suppose."

"Yes, because as I recall, Gus was a really nice guy, wasn't he?" Heero reminisced.

"He was. And thankfully he was straight, and the Bearded Lady took a liking to him," Trowa added. "But enough about that. Let's get back to the subject of Duo."

"You do seem somewhat fixated on it," agreed his brother.

"He's very good-looking, and nice. He seems intelligent, too, and curious. And if you truly had not the slightest interest in him at all, I might be tempted to ask him out—if I hadn't laid eyes on his boss yet. But since I _have_, I'm afraid unless Quatre turns out to be a total asshole—which seems highly unlikely—he's the one I'm interested in, romantically-speaking."

"You don't even know for sure that he's gay."

Trowa just smirked knowingly. "I'm willing to take my chances, based on our brief, but memorable, first meeting."

"You haven't learned your lesson, eh?" Heero sighed, shaking his head.

"Look—_she _was a mistake," Trowa retorted, knowing exactly what incident Heero was referring to. "I was young and confused and _thought _I was heterosexual."

"Yes, and when she figured out you weren't, she publicly humiliated you," Heero reminded him. "Do you really want to chance hitting on a guy who might be straight in a town full of homophobes?"

"First off, if the way he smiled at me was any indication, I haven't got much to worry about," Trowa insisted. "And secondly, if he was the kind of guy who'd get worked up about being around gays, would he be sharing a house with Duo?"

Heero considered for a moment. "I suppose that's true," he conceded, recalling how pleasant Quatre had been at the grocery store. Even if he was straight, he wasn't a homophobe by any stretch of the imagination. "So are you going to take your own advice and _ask him out_?" he teased.

"Eventually," Trowa said with less assurance than before.

"Aha!"

"What?"

"You're hesitating. That means you're going to chicken out and dance around the issue for awhile before you get up the nerve to ask him out."

"So what if I do?"

"Then stop pushing _me_ to ask Duo out!"

Trowa chuckled quietly. "What a pair," he sighed. "Easy enough to tell someone else to go for it, isn't it? But not so simple when you have to do it yourself."

"Exactly."

* * *

The campfire cast a warm glow in the clearing, the crackling of the flames echoed by the crackling of the skin of the four fish that were cooking.

"God, that smells great," Duo sighed from his reclining position against his backpack. He was using it as a pillow, his legs stretched out towards the fire with his stocking feet propped up on the rocks around it, soaking in the warmth.

Coincidentally, it was also helping to dry out those same socks, since he'd slipped on a mossy rock and landed feet-first in the creek, saturating both his boots and his socks. The boots were propped up on sticks near the fire so they could dry as well.

"It'd be even better if I had some lemon and dill."

"That wouldn't be 'roughing it,' Quat, and you know it."

It had taken Duo several outings to teach Quatre the difference between having all the amenities, and making your own. The formerly spoiled city boy had been a real novice when it came to simple survival. And there were times he still mourned the lack of flush toilets and soft down mattresses while out sleeping in the forest.

Duo, on the other hand, was an accomplished camper. His earliest memories of being hungry and adrift on the streets had left him with a deep and abiding gratitude for each and every meal or luxury. And having once learned to survive on whatever his surroundings provided, he'd had no trouble transferring that same foraging ability to a wild setting. In fact, he found a greater bounty out in nature than he'd ever found on city streets.

Not that he'd spent all that much time in the city. He'd been taken into the orphanage by six or seven years of age, along with Solo and a number of other kids that had been rounded up in an effort to reduce the homeless population. The memories of living in an abandoned warehouse were so far back in his past now, he hardly recalled them at all.

"Falling asleep?" came Quatre's tart inquiry, close to Duo's ear.

He twitched back to alertness, having indeed nearly dozed off. "Kinda," he admitted, yawning. "Now that my feet are warm again, I could nod off pretty easily."

"Not before supper. It's almost done." Quatre pressed a cup of hot cocoa into his hands. "Sit up and drink."

"Yes, mom," Duo smirked, straightening up and taking a swig. "Yum. Just how I like it! You didn't stir all the lumps out."

"I tried—."

"Those are my favorite part," Duo grinned at him. "The little blurbs of chocolate that didn't quite dissolve."

"You're seriously weird, y'know."

"Yup."

Quatre just shook his head and grinned. "You were right about the trail up here, though," he pointed out. "The view was pretty spectacular."

"Even if we couldn't spy on the cops?" Duo asked, referring to Quatre's attempts to use the binoculars to spot the forensic van and police cars down on the road by the reservoir.

"Even if," Quatre admitted. "Though, I'd kind of like to have satisfied my curiosity."

"Told ya—next week we'll hear all the gory details," he said, sipping more of his cocoa. "In fact, we'll probably hear way more than we want to."

"I suppose so. What kind of juice do you want with your fish?"

"What did we pack?"

"Cran-raspberry, cran-peach, water, pineapple-orange—."

Duo shifted on his sleeping bag. "I dunno—which has the proper bouquet for a freshwater fish dinner?" He said it with a cheesy British accent that made Quatre snicker.

"I'd go with the pineapple, myself," Quatre replied with an accent that was just as bad. "The dry, tangy flavor should offset the smoky meat quite nicely."

"Ah yes. Pineapple it is. And thank you for your recommendation, Chef Quatre."

"Actually, that'd be _Sommelier _Winner, if we were going with the snooty appellation for serving wine," Quatre teased, showing off his upper crust origins again. But he grinned as he said it, so Duo knew he was just being silly.

"Smellier?" Duo shot right back, smirking triumphantly. "Okay—if that's what you wanna be called—."

"Ah, no. If that's how you're going to pronounce it, I'd just as soon be a chef, thanks," drawled Quatre, sliding a couple of fish onto a plate and passing it over to Duo, along with an unopened bottle of pineapple-orange juice.

"Oh, great!" Duo said enthusiastically. "I got a side order of leaf with that." He pointed to a bit of oak leaf that had stuck to the plate when it sat on the ground waiting to be filled.

"It's complimentary," Quatre said airily, waving a hand. "Every meal needs greens on the side. Garnish!"

They settled in to their meal, eating the fresh fish with obvious relish, in spite of the rustic surroundings.

"Y'know," Quatre noted between mouthfuls. "You probably couldn't get fish this good in a five star restaurant."

"Damn straight. Twenty minutes from stream to plate. Y'can't beat the flavor."

After dinner, the two men made the obligatory s'mores for dessert, and then put away their gear for the night, piling the food into a sack and hanging it from a tree branch, since they were technically in bear country and didn't want to attract any attention of that sort.

Then they slung a tarp between two trees to act as a shelter against the morning dew they knew would come, and they settled their sleeping bags as close to the remains of the fire as safety allowed.

They changed into sweats so they could sleep comfortably, and yet in warm layers, and then they settled in for the night.

"G'night, Quat," Duo said as he hunkered down into his blankets.

"G'night," replied his companion, already drowsy from the long day of walking, fishing, and then setting up camp.

* * *

It was some time in the middle of the night when Quatre woke up, chilled from the lack of warmth on the side facing away from the fire pit. He shifted around so that the heat from the ring of stones could seep into his other side, and then decided that adding a log or two might be an even better idea.

As he struggled upright, wrapping his wool blanket tightly around himself, he glanced over to see Duo curled into a tiny ball inside his sleeping bag, only the trailing braid showing he was there at all. He found himself smirking as he poked the fire back into life and added a couple of dry logs, enjoying the immediate spread of heat.

Then, from down in the valley, he heard a strange cry. Somewhere between a moan and a howl, the echoing noise made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, and a chill run down his spine.

"Duo?" he hissed, looking over his shoulder at his sleeping friend.

Duo didn't even stir, but remained snuggled deep inside his nest of blankets.

The call came again, deep and mournful, rising on the cold night air.

"Duo!" Quatre scrambled over beside his friend and nudged his shoulder through the thick sleeping back. "Duo, wake up!"

The braided man stirred and mumbled incoherently, burrowing further into his makeshift bed.

"Duo!" Quatre snapped, giving him a hard shake.

Duo sat up groggily, slapping Quatre's hands away as he blinked slowly awake. "You're not Heero," he said petulantly.

"Huh?"

"When I get groped awake in th' middle of the night, I'd like it to be done by a hot Japanese guy, thank you very much," he grumbled, rubbing his eyes.

The faint, far-off call sounded again, and Quatre grabbed Duo by both shoulders. "Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?" Duo said, yawning prodigiously.

"That noise! A—a—moan, or—roar—or—_something_!" Quatre gave a hard shake to his friend, making his head snap back and forth with the motion.

"Jeeze! Leggo!" Duo groused, once again pushing Quatre's hands away. "Gonna cause brain damage—."

"Oh for Heaven's sake—shaking you wouldn't cause brain damage—."

"No," Duo growled. "'S what I'm gonna do to _you_!" He settled a glare on his boss. "It's the middle of the freakin' night, Quat. What's so important it's worth dragging me out of a sound sleep, a toasty warm sleeping bag, and a dream about a hot guy?"

"I _heard _something!" Quatre blurted, his voice rising in agitation.

"Of course you did," Duo said reasonably. "We're out in the middle of the woods, city boy. There's all kinds of critters makin' noise."

"No! This was—different. Weird." Quatre edged closer to Duo, looking warily over his shoulder at the inky blackness around them. "Could it have been a mountain lion?"

Duo's eyes narrowed and he pushed Quatre away. "Very funny," he muttered. "If this is some kind of a joke—."

"No! Duo, I'm dead serious!" Quatre gasped. "I _heard _something out there. And it's like nothing I've ever heard before. Didn't you hear it, when I was waking you up?"

Duo's lips pressed together in a thin line as he assessed his friend's seriousness. And then he gave a shrug. "Yeah, I guess I heard something. But I was only half awake, an' it didn't sound like much of anything." He shook his head. "Maybe a bear or moose."

"Bears don't call so loudly you'd hear it echo across the valley, do they?"

"Well—no. Not really." Duo cocked his head to the side. "Okay. A moose, then." He tried to pull his blanket close, and Quatre tugged urgently on it.

"Not a moose!" he insisted. "You told me their mating season is in the fall; moose don't 'call' in the spring!"

Duo smirked irrepressibly. "Why not? Do they get charged by the minute this time of year?"

"Oh—_you_—!" Quatre shoved hard, and Duo went over backwards, laughing hysterically at his own joke. "You asshole!" Quatre ranted. "I'm serious about his, and you're making _jokes_!"

"Can't help it," Duo chortled. "You set that one up so perfectly."

"Fuck you!" Quatre snarled.

"Aw, c'mon," Duo coaxed, pushing himself upright again. "I'm just trying to make the best out of getting woken up in the middle of the night." He looked deep into the aquamarine eyes. "There's nothing out here to be scared of, Quat. All kinds of animals make noises, and you get used to most of them after a while. You probably heard a fox or fisher or something. They can make yipping noises or screeches that'll just about curl your hair."

"This was almost a moan," Quatre told him, a scowl still firmly in place. "It was deep and sort of drawn out and hollow sounding."

Duo shrugged, coming up empty. "I have no idea," he admitted. "I'd have to hear it again when I'm paying attention."

Quatre looked off into the distance, in roughly the direction from which the sound had come, hoping it would repeat itself. But there was only silence and the faint whisper of a breeze up in the pines. "Damn it," he muttered.

"Don't worry," Duo soothed, putting a hand on his shoulder. "It was probably nothing. And the acoustics are so good out here, sometimes you can even hear dogs howling back in town, if the wind's in the right direction. Maybe that's what you heard."

"What does a mountain lion sound like?" Quatre demanded.

"Well—they make a variety of sounds," Duo told him. "Growls and snarls, mostly. And then sometimes a scream."

Quatre sighed, shaking his head. "No, this wasn't at all like that. It was more like a moan, like I said."

"Then ya got me," Duo conceded. "I have no idea what you heard. But I promise to keep my ears open, in case it sounds again."

"Thanks," Quatre mumbled, feeling both sheepish and annoyed. He was a bit sorry to have woken his friend up for nothing. But at the same time, the noise had been so unusual and unsettling, that he couldn't help himself.

He scowled, stirring the fire a bit more and watching the flickering flames to distract himself from the darkness around them and whatever creature out there had made such a mournful, haunting sound.


	25. Fears

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing, bigotry, some OOC

Pairings: 1X2 eventually, 3X4 also eventually

SMOKY HILLS

_"My worst fears have come to pass. Jacob went off and joined the Army. He left a note; something about his patriotic duty and nonsense like that. But I truly believe there's more to it. His guilt over Aaron's death has never quite faded, and I think living with Annabelle has just made it worse. I know there's more to what happened than the accident he claimed it was_—_a simple squabble and a slip and fall. But I can't imagine he'd have deliberately pushed Aaron. All I do know is that Annabelle is heartbroken, having lost both the young men she loved__…"_

—_excerpt from the private journal of Ephraim Barton_

Chapter Twenty Five: Fears

Heero was out at the barn before Leon roared for the third time. Having dashed down the stairs in just a tee shirt and boxers, he grabbed the flashlight, flung open the door, and literally raced to the weathered structure, sliding open the door just enough to slip through.

"Hush!" he scolded in a harsh whisper. "Pipe down you silly creature."

The big lion had been startled just enough by the door's opening and Heero's appearance that he'd ceased his vocalizations and edged back away from the front of the cage.

"Here," Heero muttered, opening the refrigeration chest and pulling out a paper-wrapped chunk of meat. "Maybe a midnight snack will quiet you down." He peeled off the wrapping and tossed the food between the bars, onto the metal food tray.

Leon regarded him for a long moment, and then slowly meandered over to the food, taking a cautious sniff or two, giving it a cursory lick, and then settling into a crouch beside it.

"Not hungry," Heero concluded, heaving a sigh, and running a hand through his bangs. "What do you want then?"

"Company," came a quiet voice at the door.

Heero all but jumped out of his skin. "Jesus, Trowa! Don't _do _that!"

Trowa leaned in the doorway, giving a casual shrug of one shoulder. "Sorry," he said unrepentantly. "Can't help it if I move quietly."

"Yes, you can. Next time call out before you come skulking in like that."

"Wasn't skulking. Jeeze—get your verbs straight. I was tiptoeing."

Heero just shook his head, turning his gaze back to Leon, who'd begun pacing again. "So, what's his problem?"

"He's lonely."

"Lonely," Heero echoed flatly.

"Yeah. You know what that's like."

Heero just gave him an irritated glance, keeping his attention on the restless lion.

"Lions live in groups," Trowa went on to explain. "They protect each other, hunt together, and raise young together. It's not natural for one to be on its own. He's missing his pride."

"He's not a wild lion," Heero argued. "You said he was born at the circus, and raised in captivity. How can he miss what he never had?"

"He may not have lived with a wild pride, but there were other big cats in the circus—other lions, too. They were within sight and smell of one another, even if they were housed in separate cages."

"But he's been here for weeks. Why'd he wait so long to start yowling for company?"

"That I don't know. Maybe he smelled something—." Trowa glanced over his shoulder at the dark yard and the forest beyond. "Could be a wild animal that triggered his behavior. Didn't the mailman say there were mountain lions in these hills?"

"Yes, but the man at the grocery store laughed when I mentioned concerns about them. He said the stories are blown out of proportion—that folks claim to see mountain lions when all they glimpse is coyotes or bobcats."

"I beg to differ," Trowa said with a frown. "Ephraim wrote about pumas a lot. They were one of the indigenous species, and a bit of a problem with livestock back then. It's not outside the realm of possibility that there's still a wild population out there."

Leon's head was raised, eyes distant as he sniffed the cool breeze.

"He smells _something_," Trowa asserted.

"Then how do we keep him quiet?"

He got a shrug for an answer. "Find him a girlfriend?" Trowa hazarded.

Heero rolled his eyes at the obvious conclusion. "Just what we need—another lion. Can we at least wait until we've had the final inspection and the permit is on its way?"

"That depends on how noisy he decides to be, doesn't it? I hope his voice didn't carry all the way to the forensic crew—but then, a lion's roar can be heard from miles away, if the acoustics are right."

"Let's just hope we don't have any cops showing up here—or awkward questions to answer in the morning," Heero sighed. "You can contact Catherine then about procuring a companion to settle Leon down."

"I think we should."

Trowa stood looking at the tawny animal long after Heero headed back to the house to return to bed. "You _can_ miss what you never had, right Leon?" he asked rhetorically. "Take Heero for example. He's never had someone to call his own. Not even Chang was really _his_. But I think Duo could be—if he'd just open up and let him in." He moved closer, his quiet voice soothing the big cat until it rolled onto its side and let the tension drain out of its muscles.

"Whaddaya think, Leon? We need to find a way to bring those two together, don't we?" He sat down just out of reach of both claws and teeth, in case the lion decided to try reaching through the bars. "We could kind of kill two birds with one stone, I think," Trowa mused sleepily. "They're both lonely, aren't they? We get 'em together, and both problems are solved." He yawned and settled his head back against the weathered boards of the barn, and was asleep before another word escaped his lips.

* * *

While Trowa was lulling a lion back to sleep, Duo had noticed Quatre's pensive expression and decided to just back off and let his companion mull things over on his own. He busied himself by throwing yet another piece of wood into the fire, and stirring it up even higher than Quatre had. "Cold out here," he commented, glancing over at the blonde's brooding look. "Want me to put on some water for cocoa?"

"Sure," Quatre replied, snapping out of his mood. "There's some chocolate left, and a few marshmallows and graham crackers."

"Great. I could go for another s'more," Duo said eagerly, rubbing his hands together over the flames. "Seein' as we're wide awake, we may as well enjoy ourselves."

Quatre gave a half-smile, and rolled his eyes. "That's kinda sad, Duo," he pointed out. "Here we are alone in the woods, two good-looking gay guys with normal, healthy libidos, and our idea of enjoying ourselves consists of hot cocoa and melted chocolate snacks." He shook his head. "Pathetic."

Busy digging in his pack for the marshmallows, Duo paused and looked at the blonde for a long, serious moment. "Sorry."

Blue eyes shot him a startled look, and then a softer one. "Can't help it if you're into brunets and I'm hung up on green eyes," he chided.

Duo sat back, regarding him very intently. "I wish like hell I hadn't been so messed up when you moved to town," he said flatly. "If I were meeting you now, for the first time—." He shook his head. "But back then I was so fixated on Solo, I couldn't imagine ever being with anyone else. And now, you're my best friend in the world; as hot as you are, I can't even imagine what it'd be like to kiss you."

"It'd be weird," Quatre said with a grin. "As weird as it'd be for me, kissing you." He lay back on his blankets, looking up at the sky while Duo continued making their snacks. "You ever wonder why it is that we're attracted to one person and not another?"

"All the time," came a vaguely bitter reply.

"I mean, Yuy was downright unpleasant to you the first time you met, face to face, and yet—you're really attracted to him, aren't you?"

"Let's not even go there," muttered the brunet, sticking a branch through the marshmallows with a little more force than necessary.

"It just doesn't make sense," Quatre mused, closing his eyes. "Trowa was way nicer to you, and yet I never saw that little glimmer of lust in your eyes when you mentioned him."

_And did he sound a bit hopeful as he made that observation?_

"Bullshit," Duo said with a hint of humor. "I'd jump his bones in a heartbeat, too."

"Yes, but—Heero's the one you _want_." Quatre raised his head and looked at Duo. "What do you see in him?"

Duo frowned, his gaze fixed on a marshmallow that was slowly turning golden on one side. "I guess—the night I took the dog home—," he said hesitantly. "When he looked at Thor's paw, there was the warmest, most tender expression in his eyes." He looked over at Quatre. "All I could think was how amazing it'd feel to be on the receiving end of that look." He shook his head and turned back to his task. "Gave me chills just thinking about how intense it'd be."

"Jeeze. You're totally in love," Quatre said in an awed voice.

Duo snorted. "Hardly. I just—y'know I don't lie, Quat. I'm not gonna say I'm not drawn to the guy. And I'm not even sure exactly why. Trowa was nice to me, and easy to be around, and definitely good-looking. But I didn't feel his smile all the way down to my soul the way I did when Heero—." The braided man bit off the rest of his sentence, recalling the warm "thank you" the Japanese man had said as he carried Thor up to the house. "I'm an ass," he sighed.

"No, you're not," Quatre asserted. "You just want what everyone wants. You want someone to care about you—to put you before everything else in his life. You want love. And that's just plain _normal_."

He got a chuckle for that comment. "No one's ever accused me of being normal before."

"Well, in some ways, you are," Quatre countered. "Me too. I mean, I only met Trowa that one time at the office. But I feel like there's something special about him—like I want to know him better. I want to _matter _to him."

"And what if he and his gorgeous roommate are a couple?" Duo asked flatly. "Or worse yet—not even gay?"

"Well, Yuy must be. That issue of _Hot Studs_ proved it."

"You don't know for sure. Maybe he's doing some sort of research or something."

"And maybe you're trying to sabotage yourself before you even _try _getting to know him," Quatre said with a scowl. "How about just keeping an open mind?"

"I'm—afraid to," Duo sighed, looking away. "Every time I've ever gotten my hopes up about anything, it's all gone wrong. I don't _dare _hope Yuy's gay, or that I'd have a chance with him if he were."

"You're going to have to," Quatre argued patiently. "If you give up hope, there's just no point to anything."

"Now you're catchin' on." Duo pulled a sticky marshmallow off and stuck it between two pieces of graham cracker, and a square of chocolate, before holding it out to his friend. "Can we just change subjects, Quat? Campfires and s'mores are for ghost stories—not deep, meaningful soul searching."

"I beg to differ," came a tart reply. "Being out in the woods helps you think more clearly—or at least, it does for most people."

"Yeah, well—you're hearing things in the dark, and I'm daydreaming about the impossible," Duo reminded him. "So much for that 'clarity of thought' theory." He made himself a s'more and took a bite. "So—let's just talk about meaningless shit for awhile, hm?"

"Fine," Quatre conceded. "Tell me a freaking ghost story then."

Duo smirked evilly. "Excellent. I'll tell you about the time that Ralph, Alex and Nikol spent Halloween night at the old Broad Hill Cemetery…"

He launched into an account he swore was true—at least as it had been told to him by the aforementioned trio—of a sighting of the ghost of Annabelle Barton.

"She was the one married to the Barton guy who went off to fight in the Civil War, I think," Duo mentioned, digging the cocoa powder out of their supplies so they could make their drinks to wash down the snacks. "There's a memorial on the town green with the names of a bunch of locals who died in it. There's a Jacob Barton listed; I checked. Anyhow, the way the legend went, she only married Barton because her _true _love died in some kind of accident. Supposedly, Barton knew it, too—and that's why he went off to war. Probably didn't like playing second fiddle to a dead man."

"How sad," Quatre mused.

"What Barton didn't know, when he left, was that she was pregnant. And while he was off soldiering, Annabelle gave birth—only she died in the process. Her ghost is supposed to haunt these hills all over the place. Ralph and the others saw her at the cemetery that night—an' you can ask them if you don't believe me!"

"I believe you," Quatre shrugged. "Not sure I believe _them_. Had they been drinking that night?"

"Well, duh," Duo said with an expressive roll of his eyes. "It was Halloween. They'd probably had tons to drink, and were on a sugar high to top it off. But that doesn't mean they didn't see her."

"It means they might've fed one another's delusions," Quatre suggested.

"Or maybe they actually saw something," Duo countered. "Some folks have seen Annabelle covered in blood, her arms held out as if searching for her baby; and others saw her in a wedding dress, crying her eyes out." He frowned, looking far too serious for the subject matter. "She's a damned unhappy spirit, either way."

"She's a figment of someone's imagination," Quatre chided. "Does anyone even know if there was a woman named Annabelle Barton at all? Or did they make the name up along with the ghost?"

"You'd have to look in the old town archives or cemeteries," Duo shrugged. "Or ask Trowa. He's got a bunch of old journals the original Barton guy wrote."

"He does?"

"Yeah. They were in the trunk I lugged down the stairs for him." Duo looked at Quatre in honest surprise. "Did I forget to mention that?"

"Um, yeah!" came the accusing reply.

"Shit. I'm sorry, Quat. I thought I'd told you. An' then that time at the grocery store, Heero was saying some of them were damaged. I told him to have Trowa look you up—that maybe you could do some restoration."

"I could!" Quatre said firmly, eyes lighting up. "Dang it! I wish you'd mentioned this. I'd have brought up the subject when Trowa was at the post office."

"You'd have begged, you mean," Duo chided.

"I'd have offered to look at the journals and do what I could to restore them."

Duo clapped his hands together in a praying gesture. "'Oh pleeeeease, Mister Barton—won't you let me help with your journals? I'll work day and night—night after night—do _anything—_!'"

"You are an asshole," Quatre said firmly, looking like he might be considering tossing his cocoa at his friend.

"What? Was I wrong about what you're willing to do for the guy?" Duo teased.

"Um…" Quatre glared at the dancing flames of the campfire. "Right or wrong, Maxwell, you are an asshole."

Duo laughed at his sullen blush. "And you say _I'm _the one in love? Damn, Quat—you're just as bad."

"Am not."

"Are too."

They both snickered, grabbing more marshmallows and starting to make another round of s'mores.

Quatre eyed Duo over the rim of his mug. "Have _you _seen Annabelle's ghost?" he asked bluntly.

Duo looked away, shaking his head. "No."

"You don't sound very convincing," Quatre nudged.

Indigo eyes fixed him with a steady glare. "Annabelle Barton is nothing but a legend," he said flatly. "Whatever weird stuff people have seen, it wasn't _her_."

"So—are you saying you _have _seen something?"

"No. I'm not saying that at all."

Quatre studied Duo's face, trying to decide if he was being evasive. "Then what _are _you saying?"

"I'm saying—." Duo paused, scowling deeply. "No matter how much odd stuff goes on out in these hills, and no matter what I've seen that I can't explain, I wouldn't claim to have seen a ghost."

"In other words, you saw something you couldn't explain."

Duo sighed heavily. "I keep telling you—Smoky Hills is full of that shit. When I was a little kid, I used to hang around down at the train station, dreaming about hopping a freight car and seeing the world. One time I saw a hobo burying something out beyond the tracks, and I got too close trying to see what it was. The guy caught me and scared the bejesus out of me—told me he'd cut the hand off a guy who tried to steal his pack of cigarettes, and that's what he'd buried. He said I knew too much, and that he'd have to kill me and bury me out there, too." He shook his head. "I kicked him in the shins, got away, and ran all the way back to the orphanage. Took Father Maxwell two hours to get me to come out from under the bed. And when I told him the story, he took me to the police station and made me tell it to Trant's dad, who was the cop on duty that night." He gave a shrug. "He went down and talked to the hobo, who told him he'd just been burying garbage or something. Said he was trying to scare me off 'cause he didn't think kids should hang around train yards like that; it wasn't safe."

"No kidding?" Quatre said with a smirk. "So he was an okay guy?"

Duo shrugged. "I dunno. On the surface, it looked like there was a totally reasonable explanation for the whole incident. But I was nine years old. I told Solo about it, and he and some of the older kids went and looked for whatever the guy might've buried. But they never found anything to prove whether he'd been telling the cop the truth, or me, and no one ever saw that hobo again. He up an' left town in the middle of the night. The point is, at the time, I believed there was a hand buried out there, and no matter what the cops said, I thought the bum was gonna find me an' kill me. I was jumpy as hell for months, because of a perceived threat. It all depends on your mindset, y'know? All the logic in the world can't shelter you from whatever fears your mind conjures up. So, I could tell you about the time I thought I saw someone up at the lookout—someone who couldn't possibly have been there—only when I ran up to them, they were gone. And it might be true, or it might be that I was so drunk at the time, I was seeing what I wanted to see, instead of what was really there."

He threw his hands out to the side in a gesture of resignation. "Then there was the time during a blizzard I nearly went off the road avoiding a guy with a dog in the middle of the road. Only when I stopped, I couldn't find either of them, or any trace they'd ever been there. It might've been a trick of the light—or the swirls of snow, for all I know. But I was _positive _I saw the guy. Absolutely certain. And I was stone cold sober, too." He shook his head. "I don't even like to start on some of the stuff people have told me, Quat, because you'll think half the folks in town are crazy as loons. And hell; you might be right. I guess I'm just sayin' that maybe there's logical explanations for the strange sightings, and maybe there's not. But you sure as hell can't prove it one way or the other."

"I never knew there were so _many _stories," Quatre murmured with a frown. "I mean, every now and then there'd be a 'did you hear what old Miz Carlson saw' rumor at the diner. But it always sounded like the people spreading the rumor were making most of it up. I guess I just figured it was a form of entertainment—of gossip. And now you're telling me those silly old wives' tales and stories passed along the rumor mill might've been based on _fact_?"

"Everything is based on fact, Quat," Duo said bluntly. "Even the best myth out there had some kernel of fact that someone took and ran with. And maybe it's so blown out of proportion now that it's a complete exaggeration. And then there's the shit that gets started based on what was blown out of proportion to begin with, and it just grows and grows." He shook his head. "All I know is—whatever I've seen probably had a perfectly reasonable explanation. But I couldn't find it at the time, so I'm just left with questions." He smiled wanly. "I try not to think about it, Quat. You wonder why screaming birds can scare the crap out of me? It's partly my imagination, and partly those unanswered questions."

"Jesus. Welcome to Smoky Hills," Quatre muttered.

The conversation quickly dwindled to nothing after that, and when they'd finished their cocoa and s'mores, the two men decided to try to get back to sleep, though both were still a bit jumpy. When they found themselves looking sharply out into the darkness around them at the slightest noise, they shared a sheepish laugh and began putting things away. Duo put the food supplies back up in the sling on the tree, while Quatre banked the fire so it wouldn't be a safety hazard, and they both tried valiantly to ignore the tense atmosphere around them.

"Hey, uh, if we move the sleeping bags to the same side of the fire, we'd probably both be warmer," Duo pointed out casually, his back to Quatre.

"Oh. Yes. That makes perfect sense," Quatre agreed readily, gathering up his blanket and bag and moving them right next to Duo's. "Sharing heat, you know," he added with a half-hearted smile, loathe to admit he was spooked by the ghostly tales.

"I promise to keep my hands to myself, too," Duo added, flashing a quick, teasing grin. "Why don't you put your blanket under the sleeping bags, and we can throw mine on top? Make a nice, toasty nest out of them."

"Sounds good." Quatre quickly completed the revised sleeping arrangement, and slipped into his own sleeping bag as Duo walked over to join him.

The braided man climbed in, and helped tuck in the wool blanket over the top of their bags. "Yeah, that's the ticket," he said with a grin. "Much warmer."

"I agree." Quatre could feel the solid presence beside him, and it did wonders to calm his nerves.

"Didn't mean to spook you with crazy stories," Duo said quietly, just as Quatre was relaxing and starting to drift towards sleep.

"I wasn't spooked," came a quick, defensive reply. "Not by that."

"Oh, I know," Duo agreed hastily. "Me neither." He tugged at the blankets. "This is just for warmth—right?"

"Of course." Quatre squirmed to get more comfortable.

After a moment or two of silence, he carefully added, "But that noise before—. It was so eerie."

"Wish I'd been awake enough to really listen to it," Duo sighed. "I'm sure it was something very ordinary and very explainable."

"Yes, it must have been," Quatre said, chewing uneasily on his lip. A dying ember in the fire popped loudly, and both men twitched at the sound.

Of course, then they both studiously ignored the fact that they'd nearly jumped out of their skins.

"In the morning," Duo murmured, wriggling just a bit closer—practically spooning up behind Quatre. "We can get an early start back down the mountain. I want to show you the falls on the way. They're really spectacular this early in the summer, when the water level is high."

Quatre latched onto the soothing sound of his voice. "Tell me about 'em?"

"Well—they come straight out of the side of the rock face, and just spill down into the pools below. I think the runoff up there eroded away a trench, so it got deeper and deeper, until finally the water worked its way down through fissures and out a lower opening. There's a lip above it, that water doesn't flow over. You could possibly walk across that edge—though I wouldn't do it on a dare. It's all mossy and slippery. Probably treacherous."

"Has anyone ever fallen from it?"

"Not that I've ever heard," Duo assured him. "People are too smart to risk it. Even us dumbass kids never went that far."

"'At's good," Quatre mumbled drowsily, the warm nest of blankets and Duo's husky whisper slowly lulling him to sleep.

"We can have a picnic at the base of the falls, if you can stand the noise there. We'll cook up the steaks we didn't use tonight."

"Yum." Quatre drifted off into a peaceful slumber, and Duo shifted around so he could throw an arm across his sleeping companion.

"Sleep tight," he said quietly, before allowing himself to relax and nod off as well.


	26. Wake Up Calls

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing, bigotry, some OOC

Pairings: 1X2 eventually, 3X4 also eventually

A/N: Fair warning. I wrote the first twenty or so chapters before I started posting this story, but I'm reaching the end of the finished parts. The rest is in rough form, so as I take time to complete and smooth it, I may have to drop to updating once weekly, instead of twice. Hopefully not. Sometimes I can go on a writing binge and knock out a few chapters in pretty short order. But other times, real life conspires to sap my time and energy. I will do my best to keep timely updates coming, as I'm getting into the meat of the story. Please be patient with me if I can't quite maintain the pace I have been. Thanks.

SMOKY HILLS

_"Life seems to be a series of valleys and hills, much like the land where I live. Coming out of the depths from Jacob's leaving, I now find myself on a new pinnacle. Annabelle is pregnant! I'm going to be a grandfather. And dear Lord, Jacob will be a father. If only I could reach him. I've sent letters to the regimental headquarters, begging them to pass along the news. I even enlisted one of the local boys who just signed up to take a message along with him, in case he encounters Jacob, or someone who will have the means to reach him. He must know this news. It could make all the difference; it could be the one shining hope that brings him home to us and away from the madness of war…"_

_—excerpt from the private journal of Ephraim Barton_

Chapter Twenty Six: Wake Up Calls

"Trowa—wake up!"

The auburn-haired man blinked and sat up sharply, wincing at the stiffness in his back from sleeping in a leaning position.

Brilliant sunlight was streaming in the open door, and Heero was standing there with his arms folded across his chest and an exasperated expression on his face. "What are you still doing out here?"

"I—fell asleep?" Trowa guessed. He rubbed at his eyes. "I was talking to Leon, and I guess I must've dozed off."

"Well, get your ass up and into the shower, Doctor Dolittle. The cops called and they want us to stop down at the staging area and answer a few questions for the forensic guys. They asked me to bring the property map, too, so we can mark the location with sight lines and stuff for the report."

"Complicated," Trowa said with a yawn.

Heero gave a short nod. "Wufei used to go on and on about the details of investigations—how the climate affected remains. He was particularly fussy about acidic soil and the rate of decomposition it caused."

"At least he's not one of those bug guys. Y'know—the ones who are into determining how long someone's been dead based on how old the maggots are?"

Heero grimaced slightly. "He is, when it's a fresh corpse—or relatively fresh. In this case, bugs wouldn't do him any good, so I won't have to listen to any dissertations about what kind of flies they are and where they're commonly found." He shook his head. "Almost makes me glad we've got so little evidence—less for him to do. Once he determines time and cause of death, along with a positive age and sex, there won't be a lot he can add to the investigation."

"Fine by me," Trowa said with a barely perceptible narrowing of his eyes. He'd never been overly fond of Wufei, and even less so after the man had dumped his brother. "I'd just as soon not end up owing him anything."

"You don't. He examined the bone because _I _asked."

"He examined it because he likes being able to demonstrate his knowledge of forensic pathology."

"That too," Heero admitted. "But no matter how things ended between us, I am grateful he's willing to help."

"Least he could do," Trowa muttered, standing and stretching this way and that, loosening his stiff limbs. "Do I have time for coffee before we head down to see the cops?"

"Of course. I made a fresh pot before I went looking for you and realized you'd been silly enough to hang out here until you dozed off."

"Leon is very good company," Trowa smirked, winking conspiratorially at the big lion, who was gnawing lazily on the chunk of meat Heero had thrown into the cage the previous night.

"I'm sure he is. Let's go."

They headed inside and Trowa snagged a cup of coffee which he took to the shower with him, claiming his need for hot water to ease his aches was every bit as urgent as the need for caffeine.

He wasn't lying, either, as the steaming shower loosened up muscles weary from the previous day's hike, as well as stiff from sleeping in a sitting position.

"I will never do that again," he swore to himself, as he dried himself off and went to get dressed.

He downed his daily pain pills with the remains of his coffee and walked slowly down the stairs to find Heero waiting by the door.

"Here."

He accepted what Heero held out, grinning in delight when he realized it was an omelet between two slices of toast, wrapped in a paper towel to make it portable. "Hey, thanks!"

"I had mine earlier," his roommate replied, picking up two travel mugs. "I've got coffee to go, so you have something to wash it down with in the car."

"If we weren't related, I'd marry you," Trowa smirked.

Heero snorted and shook his head. "What makes you think I'd agree to that?"

"Because you love me so much."

"Yeah? Well, by that standard, maybe I ought to marry Thor. I love him, too. And he's _way_ less trouble than you are."

"He found a skeleton, Yuy," Trowa objected, as they headed out the door and down the steps. "How can he be less trouble than me?"

"He doesn't talk."

"Oh, ouch."

"And he's never ordered magazine subscriptions in my name."

Trowa was forced to shrug and give an acknowledging duck of his head, as they climbed into the car. "Okay—maybe he's got an edge there. But then again, I've never chewed up your favorite pair of slippers."

"No, but you left them where _he _could, after using them to sneak out to the kitchen for a midnight snack."

"You knew about that?"

"I'm fairly observant," came the dry response. "I _was _a cop, you know." Heero paused as he said it. "By the way—since we're on the subject, I'd rather not explain my background to the local police. They seem to think I'm connected to the Forensic Institute, and for now I'd like to keep it that way. Let them think they're running the investigation; and maybe I'll nudge them in the right direction, if I think they're as clueless as they act."

"Why not just pull rank?"

Heero started up the car and put it into drive, heading down the long lane towards the main road. "First off, I'm supposed to be on leave. Une could reactivate me; but then I'd have to return to Sanc as soon as I'm done with the investigation here."

"She can't just put you back on active duty for a week or two?"

Heero shrugged. "I'm not sure exactly what she can do. But I suspect that leading an investigation here would indicate I was sufficiently recovered to return to duty back in Sanc."

"Not necessarily. Working on a cold case like this is a far cry from an active homicide investigation in a big city." Trowa's brow furrowed. "It's not likely you'll need to carry a gun here and risk having to use it."

Heero flinched visibly at his words.

"Sorry."

"Don't be. You're right. Working a cold case involves digging through files and interviewing people. The odds of ending up in a running gun battle trying to stop a serial killer are very small." He drew a deep breath. "I just don't know if Une would see it that way, or just assume that my ability to work a case means I'd be able to work _any _case."

Trowa nodded. "I see your point. So, for the time being, we don't mention to the local cops that you're ten times the detective any six of them could ever be." He grinned cheekily. "At what point might that change?"

"If they don't conduct a thorough, logical investigation, I might feel compelled to step in," Heero admitted. "But I really would just as soon let them try their hand. It's not like the case is going anywhere. And maybe they have a better knowledge of the situation, being that they're from around here. They could know something I don't—about vagrants in the area, or hunting incidents—something that happened some years ago, which could tie into the case. May as well let them exhaust their resources first."

Trowa snickered a bit nastily. "From what I know of them, I don't think they understand the meaning of 'exhausted.' Didn't you say the guy was watching a ball game the day you took the bone in?"

"Yes," Heero said rather sharply. "And while I realize there's a lot of down time in a small police station, I think the officer could have put his time to slightly better use."

"Like maybe studying the difference between human bones and cow bones?"

"Exactly."

They were at the access road by then, and Trowa busied himself finishing his breakfast, while Heero searched for a place to park that would put them as close as possible to the people they were supposed to meet.

"I don't want you walking any further than necessary," he explained, as he pulled the car between two police cruisers and over a few bushes to reach the side of the forensic van.

"Love you, too," Trowa purred, making a fake kiss in the air. He let himself out while Heero was shutting down the vehicle and grabbing the map off the seat.

"Let's go," Heero suggested, walking around to his side. "Chang's assistant should be nearby." He headed for one of the crew members, who was pouring coffee from a portable setup next to the van. "Excuse me. Where could I find Doctor Long?"

The man looked up and grinned. "You mean 'Digger?' He's right around the corner." He gestured with his cup towards the far side of the van.

Heero nodded and went around the vehicle, spotting the tall, lanky Doctor "Digger" Long bending over a table on which photographs were neatly arranged.

"Still working for Chang, are you?" he asked with a smile.

Long straightened up and turned, grinning in response. "Yeah, I am. Long time no see, Yuy."

"Not all _that _long," Heero said as they shook hands.

The other man's face sobered. "Heard what happened, with the kid an' all. Sorry about that."

Heero stiffened, but kept his expression under control. "Me, too."

He seemed frozen after that, unsure of how to proceed, so Trowa hastily stepped up beside him. "Hey, I'm Heero's brother, Trowa. Nice to meet you, Doctor—?"

"Just call me Digger. Everyone else does," replied the man, shaking the proffered hand.

"Digger," Trowa acknowledged. "Because you dig up the bodies?"

"I generally am the one who oversees excavation of the remains," he agreed. "I make sure we document each step of the way, so the data can be preserved for analysis."

"Bet you're glad to get one that's not fresh and smelly," Trowa joked, still trying to give Heero a chance to recover from the man's careless mention of the incident that precipitated his needing stress leave.

"Yes, and no," Long admitted. "Easier to do the recovery—but we've got a lot less information for my boss." He dared a glance at Heero, who was regaining his composure quickly. "You know how Chang likes his information."

"Plentiful and uncompromised," Heero said with a faint smile, echoing a familiar phrase. "Well—he won't get that here. This scene's probably been compromised by several years' worth of foot traffic and animal activity. And all you can take him is some dried old bones." He managed a malicious smirk. "He won't love you for that."

"Ah well," sighed Long. "I'm used to disappointing him. We've had quite a few old cases in recent months."

"Really?" Heero perked up, wondering if there could be a connection—maybe a series of crimes just coming to light. "Any similar to this one?"

Long shook his head. "Naw. Sorry, but you've got a unique case here." He gestured them to join him at the table. "We've got pictures of the skeleton before we began the removal process. Might wanna check them out first."

Heero leaned over the table, studying the photographs, and focusing on the ones that showed the arrangement of the bones in the ground. It immediately gave him a rough idea of the victim's height, though he knew that Chang's lab would have it pinpointed within hours. "You think your team will be able to come up with a good description?"

"Absolutely. We'll have age, sex, height and weight confirmed within twenty-four hours. Cause of death might take a bit longer. I mean, there was considerable damage to the skull, so head trauma is a likely conclusion. But there's also the chance it was post mortem damage, and that there'll be signs of gunshot or knife wounds on other bones."

"You didn't find any bullets?"

"None." The guy gave a shake of his head. "No clothes, either."

Heero looked sharply at him, his thoughts immediately turning towards a potential sex crime. "None at all?"

"Nope. Not even a belt buckle or button. Guy hadda be dumped there stark naked."

"Shit."

"Helluva thing," agreed the other man.

Heero looked at the other pictures of the clearing, trying to picture how a murderer might have chosen where to hide the body. But so much depended on knowing if the victim had been killed in close proximity to the dump site.

If he had been, someone could have dragged him to his current resting place. But if not, he'd have had to be transported to the location.

Heero rubbed his temple restlessly, scowling at the complete lack of clues.

"I take it you never had a cold case before," guessed Chang's assistant.

Heero shook his head. "I handled on-going cases back in Sanc. They had a separate department for the really old crimes they discovered. Most of what I know about investigating a case this old, I learned from Chang."

"He knows his stuff," the man agreed. "We collect up the data, and he puts it all together. He's pretty amazing at assembling the pieces into some sort of picture."

"Yeah—he was good at jigsaw puzzles, too," Heero said with a smirk. "Comes from those keen observational skills of his." He looked up at Long. "Tell him I said thanks for sending the whole crew out for this. I appreciate all the effort for a case that might be impossible to solve."

"Nothing's impossible," Long assured him. "Given enough time and patience."

"Now you sound like your boss," Heero joked.

"Or a fortune cookie!" Trowa piped up, glad the mood had lightened. He gave a rather sardonic grin. "But then, I always did think Wufei sounded a bit didactic."

"Oh, say _that _to his face," Long suggested with a wince.

"Any time," came the unrepentant reply.

"Um, to get back to the subject at hand," Heero nudged. "Didn't you want a look at the property map, Digger?"

"Ah, yes." Doctor Long looked at one of his crewmen. "Could you send for the police chief? He asked to be in on the briefing—something about making sure to keep the location under wraps."

Heero shared a smirk with Trowa, having given the police chief a lengthy lecture the night of their discovery. He was hoping the man had enough control over his officers and the volunteers on the scene to keep the information confidential—but he wasn't particularly convinced. He had a feeling they'd still have problems with trespassers, as word slowly leaked out in the small town. But they could deal with that if and when it happened.

Heck, maybe the farm's reputation would help on that score. Hilde had said that the owners used to be antisocial and reclusive—so maybe that, coupled with the discovery of a dead body, would ward off some of the less adventurous types.

And if that wasn't enough of a deterrent, Heero thought that perhaps he and two large, fearsome-looking wolfhounds could ward off the rest.

* * *

Duo and Quatre had been up since just before dawn, packing their gear and heading for high ground to watch the sunrise.

They were treated to the kind of view described in Ephraim Barton's journal—the hills swathed in morning mist that rose over the treetops like smoke as the sun warmed the air, and then gradually dissipated as the heat of the day settled in.

"It's pretty up here," Quatre said quietly from his position on a handy boulder.

"Yeah," Duo acknowledged, shading his eyes with one hand as he let his gaze sweep across the valley, taking in the green treetops and the sparkling blue of the reservoir. "Hey—c'mere and look."

Quatre walked up beside him, and looked where Duo pointed.

"Over that way you can see the overlook, kinda. Y'know, the one near the spillway? I took you there for a picnic once."

Quatre nodded. "Beech Bluff, you mean?"

"Yep. See there where the hill slopes down towards the dam? The bluff is just to the left."

"Not sure I can see what you're talking about," Quatre said apologetically, trying to discern the shape of the ledge through the green foliage.

"There's trees over it right now," Duo told him, only able to spot the landmark himself because he knew it so well. "But in the winter the rocks are easy to spot." His expression turned a bit wistful. "Solo an' I spent a lot of time up there."

Quatre smiled a bit slyly. "Looking for privacy, were you?"

"Yeah," Duo admitted.

"Y'know, there are laws about public indecency," Quatre teased.

Duo ducked his head, hiding a blush. "'S not like we did anything _that _crazy," he mumbled.

Quatre gave him a sidelong look.

"No, really," he asserted, looking up defensively. "Hell, Quat, aside from some heavy petting, an' maybe a blow job or two—."

"Most people would consider that public indecency if you did it on a public overlook."

"Public is a relative term," Duo pointed out. "Hardly anybody ever went up there. And even if they did, it's not like we were stark naked and fucking, or anything—there or anywhere else, for that matter."

There was a long pause, and then, "_Never_?"

Duo hunched his shoulders uncomfortably. "No," he muttered, getting up and going over to pick up his backpack and gear.

His boss looked at him in surprise, somehow having assumed from the way Duo talked about his former boyfriend that they'd at least had sex. "You didn't?"

"No!" Duo repeated with a scowl. "Get your stuff and let's get moving. If you want to eat lunch by Chapman Falls, we'll have to cover a lot of ground before noon."

Quatre followed his lead, loading up his gear and setting off behind the braided man as he started to hike down the rugged trail that was the second leg of their journey. But he spent the next twenty minutes or more trying to wrap his head around the new information about his long-time friend.

"You and Solo really never—?"

"Are you still on _that _subject?" Duo asked with a huff.

"Well—yes. I just always assumed you'd—. I mean, he'd—." Quatre threw his hands up in exasperation. "Well why didn't you?"

Duo stopped in the middle of the path, turning a glare to his friend. "If I tell you, will you fucking shut up about it?"

A slow smile spread across Quatre's face. "Are you embarrassed to admit you're a virgin?" he asked in amazement.

The hint of pink on Duo's cheeks gave away the answer, even as he shook his head and tried to shrug indifferently, turning away and resuming his walk.

"You are!" Quatre crowed, jogging to catch up. "Jeeze, Duo. Don't be. I think that's cool."

"You do?"

"Yes. It's actually kind of sweet that you two were waiting—."

Duo glanced over his shoulder and rolled his eyes. "'S not like that," he insisted. "We didn't talk about waiting or anything. It just kind of happened. I mean, shit. I was fifteen when he took off. And since he was eighteen, he coulda gotten in a lot of trouble."

"Trouble?"

"Statutory rape," Duo clarified. "One time Howard walked in on us makin' out in Solo's room over the store, and I thought he was gonna blow a gasket. He lectured us on how young we were, and what could happen if anyone found out—." He shook his head. "I dunno about Solo, but he sure scared the shit outta me."

_They'd stolen away up to Solo's apartment during Duo's lunch break at the convenience store, seeking a bit of privacy, and one thing had led to another._

_Kissing had led to touching—touching to stripping off shirts and stroking—stroking to fumbling at buttons and zippers and moving on to a more intense petting session. And they'd completely forgotten they left the door at the top of the stairs unlocked._

"_What the fuck?" came a sharp exclamation from the doorway._

_Solo scrambled hastily back, disentangling himself from Duo's arms, and Duo scooted right up against the headboard, eyes wide and startled._

"_Howard?" Solo asked, looking halfway flustered and halfway pissed._

_But the anger in the older man's eyes made him opt for an apologetic approach. "It's not what you think!"_

_Howard raised an eyebrow, his gaze sweeping over the two boys; their flushed faces, bare chests, and unbuttoned jeans._

"_Okay—maybe it is," Solo conceded._

"_It doesn't matter what I think!" Howard blurted. "It's the kind of trouble you two could get into if anyone else found out about—this!" He gestured to their compromising position._

"_Nothing happened, Howie," Duo assured him. "And besides, Solo's my boyfriend. It's not like people don't know we're a couple. We were just—fooling around a little."_

"_And where do you think 'fooling around' leads?" Howard asked scathingly. But his wrath seemed mainly directed at Solo. "You're eighteen, kid. He's fifteen. Ever heard of statutory rape?"_

"_Whoa!" Duo yelped, pushing away from the headboard and throwing his arms around Solo from behind. "Don't even go there, Howard. Solo didn't do nothin' I didn't want him to. There's no 'rape' involved—even if we did go that far—."_

"_There is if he's of age and you're not," Howard corrected him. "Solo could go to jail, Duo. Is that what you want?"_

_Duo turned wide eyes to his boyfriend. "Is he right?"_

_Solo shrugged uneasily, not quite looking back at Duo. "Maybe technically. But there'd have to be someone to make the accusation. An' it's not like Father Maxwell's gonna find out and blow the whistle on us."_

"_Could Howard?"_

_Solo glared hard at the old man. "I s'pose he could, if he actually caught us in the act."_

_Howard glared back. "You know I wouldn't do that to either of you. But I expect you to be the mature one, Solo. You're the one who'd take the consequences, legally. But emotionally, it'd be Duo. He's the one at risk here. He's not old enough for what you're starting."_

_It was Duo's turn to glare. "I am so!" he snapped. "Jesus, Howie—y'know how many kids in school are having sex at my age? Lots of 'em."_

"_And they aren't ready for it either," Howard said firmly. "But at least they're with someone just as young and immature as they are—not someone older and more worldly."_

"_Worldly?" Solo echoed in disbelief. "Where d'you think I've been, old man? And what do you think I've been doing? I'm from Smoky Hills as much as Duo is, and we've grown up together. Why should I be any more 'worldly' than he is?"_

"_Because lately you've hung with a different crowd," Howard pointed out. "Those guys from the garage and the lumber mill that hang out at the State Line Bar are way the heck older than both of you. I guarantee you've heard and seen things Duo's clueless about, haven't you?"_

_Solo shrugged, looking vaguely uncomfortable. "What are you saying, Howard? You think I've been sleeping around, while Duo's back at the orphanage doing his math homework? That's what you make it sound like."_

"_And am I wrong?"_

"_Yeah, you're wrong!" Solo growled, even as Duo snuggled a little closer and shot a stubborn look at Howard. "I'm with Duo. I'm not out fucking someone else. I don't want anyone else!"_

"_But what you want from Duo may be more than he's ready for," Howard pointed out with a bit less vehemence. His expression softened, and he frowned in concern. "Think about that, why don't you? Think about Duo." He shook his head. "I don't wanna find you in the position I just did until he's at least in his senior year—or at __**all**__, truth be told. Don't you think you can wait that long—long enough for him to mature emotionally, so he'll be ready for the same things you are?"_

_Solo scowled, but gave a short nod of his head. "Of course I can wait. I'm not trying to pressure Duo into anything." He glanced aside at the sparkling indigo eyes, and the teasing smirk on those kissable lips. "If anything—he started it __this __time."_

"_Yeah I did," Duo breathed in his ear, resisting the urge to nibble on it, because he knew that would just set Howard off even more. The braided boy looked over his boyfriend's shoulder at the whiskered shop owner. "It's nice of you to worry, Howie. But don't just blame Solo for something that takes two of us, y'know?"_

_Howard put his hands on his hips in the classic gesture of sternness. "Fine then. I'll blame ya both." He shook a finger in warning. "I don't want to catch you two at this again, do you hear me? Or I __**will **__tell Father Maxwell. And I'll let him decide how he wants to handle it. He may not be as open-minded as an old man like me." His grey eyes narrowed as he stared back at Duo. "Keep that in mind. If you want to risk Solo gettin' arrested, just keep this up. But if you don't—the two of you better take a step back and slow down a bit, before the wrong person sees you doing more than a little public hand-holding."_

"_Yeah, Howie, we will," Solo said quickly, before Duo could argue. "We'll take it easy. Promise."_

"_You damn well better mean that," Howard warned. "And by the way, Duo, you're supposed to be downstairs stocking that milk cooler, aren't you?"_

"_I'm on my lunch break—," Duo protested._

"_Which ended five minutes ago," Howard pointed out, tapping his watch. "Why d'you think I came up here looking for you?" He shook his head. "Got more of an eyeful than an old heart like mine can take, though. So get your ass downstairs and back to work, you mouthy little whelp!"_

_Duo hastily grabbed his shirt off the floor and threw it on, leaning to drop an apologetic kiss on Solo's lips. "See ya after my shift ends," he promised, before dashing out the door, buttoning his shirt as he went._

_Howard paused for a last, stern look at Solo. "Go slow with him," he cautioned. "You know he's just a kid—a real sweet kid. Don't ruin what you have by rushing him."_

_Solo sighed and nodded, acknowledging that Howard was right. "I won't," he said firmly. "He does mean the world to me, Howard. I promise you that."_

"_Then act like it, okay? Work on building a life together before you jump straight into sex. It'll be better for both of you."_

"_Yeah," Solo admitted. "I s'pose it will. Thanks for the advice, Howie—and for caring about Duo."_

"_I care about you both," Howard corrected him sharply. "Don't forget that, either!"_

"_I won't," Solo told him, finally mustering a genuine smile. "Thanks for that, too."_

Duo hadn't been there for the tail end of the conversation, but Solo had filled him in about it later—causing a whole new round of blushing as he recalled the embarrassment of having Howard walk in on the two of them.

"Maybe that's a good thing," Quatre said carefully, breaking into his wandering thoughts. "I mean, if you'd gone ahead and—done it—and _then _Solo left, wouldn't it have been worse?"

"I dunno," Duo shrugged. "Sometimes I wonder if that's why he left—'cause he got tired of waiting for me."

"If that's the case," Quatre said fiercely, "then he didn't deserve you!"

"Yeah, right," scoffed the braided man.

"No, seriously!" Quatre burst out indignantly. "If he wasn't willing to wait until you were old enough, both legally and emotionally, then he wasn't much of a boyfriend, was he?"

"He was a great boyfriend," Duo said stubbornly. "We were together from the time we were kids, Quat. He was my best friend before he was my boyfriend. And afterwards, too." He looked up with a defiant expression. "He talked about us being together forever. And he meant it; I know he did."

"Then why'd he leave?"

Duo walked for a moment in silence, obviously contemplating the question. And just about the time Quatre was sure he wasn't going to reply, he did.

"I wish I knew," he said softly.


	27. Warnings

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing, bigotry, some OOC

Pairings: 1X2 eventually, 3X4 also eventually

A/N: I know this is a bit shorter, like the early chapters, but it serves a purpose. And at least I'm able to update, rather than make folks wait.

Oh, and a couple of people asked for ages. Duo is about 24, Heero about 26, Trowa 28, Quatre 26, and 'Fei would have to be the old-timer at 29 or so, which is probably pushing it, considering the huge education he had to have, plus time to rise to the head of a forensic institution. Other ages would be Hilde 24, Solo 27, Trant and Otto 27, Ralph 28, Alex 24, Sally 29, etc...pretty close, since most of the Smoky Hills crew attended high school more or less at the same time.

SMOKY HILLS

_"__I've tried for weeks to reach Jacob, but am told that mail is slow in reaching soldiers, if it makes it at all. He needs to know that Annabelle is pregnant. I know he'd come back if only he was aware. I swear, it was guilt that motivated him to leave. But the prospect of a child could help him move beyond it. I know it could…__"_

—_excerpt from the private journal of Ephraim Barton_

Chapter Twenty Seven: Warnings

It was late afternoon when Duo and Quatre reached the Jeep, and opened up the back so they could throw their gear inside.

"Wow. I'm glad to unload _that_," Quatre sighed, shoving his bulky pack into the vehicle.

"Aw—goin' soft on me, Quat?" Duo teased. "You kept up great on the cross-country skiing that time—."

"Yes, but we weren't carrying camping gear then," Quatre reminded him. "It was just a nice, easy aerobic activity."

"Hm, true," Duo acknowledged. He smirked evilly. "Wanna try some winter camping next year?"

"No!" came the decisive response. "I want to be curled up by a toasty hearth with a fuzzy blanket and a cup of cocoa in the evening—like last time." He let his gaze go a bit distant. "Maybe a tall, auburn-haired guy to keep me warm would be a nice addition, though."

Instead of teasing, Duo sobered. "Don't get your hopes up. If he's with Heero—."

"And what if he's not?" Quatre retorted. "For once would you just _dare _to hope for the best?"

Duo shrugged, looking a bit chastened. "Guess I can try," he offered.

They headed out the old logging road shortly thereafter, bouncing along the deeply-rutted track towards civilization—or at least what passed for it in those remote, wooded hills.

"Wanna swing by Hilde's and pick up something for supper?" Duo asked, when they hit blacktop and turned towards town.

"Definitely—and coffee, too. Your campfire coffee sucks."

"I told you to pack tea bags."

"Yes, well, I forgot. And while I'm not half the coffee drinker you are, I _do _like it to at least resemble real coffee when I drink it."

"Campfire coffee will put hair on your chest."

"Thanks, but no thanks. Now—what were you saying about picking up supper?"

"Hilde usually makes stew or soup on weekends. Thought that'd be easier than trying to cook when we get home."

"It sure would," Quatre sighed, leaning back in the seat. "I'm not at all in the mood to cook. In fact, I think I need a hot bath even more than a meal."

"So, we can have both," Duo suggested. "We'll pick up sandwiches, or soup if she's got any—and when we get home, you can have first dibs on the bath." He knew his roommate didn't enjoy roughing it as much as he did. And truth be told, he was kind of looking forward to cleaning up and changing into comfy sweats and a tee shirt and lounging on the couch for a couple of hours before bed. "Y'know the best thing about camping, Quat?"

"Coming home," murmured his companion, already sounding a little drowsy.

"Yeah."

As they passed the place where the forensic crew and police had been, Quatre sat up and peered out the window. "Hey—they're gone!"

"Who? The cops?" Duo shrugged as he kept driving. "What did you expect them to do—set up shop here? They probably found a few more bones and called it a day. Not like there'd be much for them to stick around for."

"What about examining the location and stuff?" Quatre wondered. "Hey—you wanna stop and see if we can find the place?"

"No!" Duo said sharply. "Did you not hear me yesterday? Let the dead lie, already."

"But there's no one there now," Quatre argued. "They've taken the remains, I'm sure. We'd just be looking at a _place._"

"So why bother?"

"Argh!" Quatre snarled in frustration. "Don't you have a curious bone in your entire body?"

He got a narrowed, sidelong glance. "Haven't you ever heard what curiosity did to the cat?"

"But you're the one with the wild imagination—talking about Yuy and Barton being psycho axe murderers and stuff. You told me you used to sneak around the train yard. And you just _love _the latest gossip at the diner!" Quatre sounded downright accusing. "You _have _to be curious."

"No, I don't," Duo said flatly, this time keeping his attention firmly on the road as he maneuvered around a sharp bend where there were liable to be deer crossing. "Some things are just too fucking creepy to mess with, Quat. And dead bodies definitely fit that description."

Quatre subsided, wondering why his usually-mischievous roommate was so set against exploring the final resting place of the mysterious bones. More often than not, he was the one holding Duo back, and urging him to be sensible and cautious.

And he knew Duo had hiked almost every square mile of the State forest land around the reservoir—usually alone. It made no sense that he'd suddenly balk at a simple hike on relatively-familiar ground.

_Unless—._

"Are you afraid of ghosts?" Quatre asked bluntly.

Duo's lips clamped into a tight line, and then he gave a short, sharp shake of his head. "Don't be stupid," he snapped. "You can't be afraid of something that doesn't exist."

"Sure you can," Quatre assured him, convinced he was on the right track. For all of Duo's bluster, the young man had grown up hearing chilling tales of the back woods near Smoky Hills. It made sense that he'd shy away from anything hinting at the supernatural.

"I'm not afraid," Duo growled. "Damn it, Quat—I've slept out in these woods alone a million times. I've hiked them and camped in them."

"But not somewhere that you knew a body had been found—right?"

"It's not about ghosts," Duo insisted. "It's about me—okay? I just—. I've buried enough people close to me, Quat, that I don't want to be around death any more than I have to. Get it?"

Quatre nodded. "I guess I do." He frowned a little. "But how come you go to the cemetery every year—on the anniversary of the fire?"

"Out of respect," Duo said curtly. "I owe those people something." He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "That person back there—I owe nothing. And I have no desire to explore the last resting place of a total stranger." His brow furrowed as he looked out into the shadows the trees cast across the road. "No point in disturbing one more ghost out here."

Quatre barely caught the last sentence, and realized Duo hadn't meant it to be heard. So he let it drop, and occupied himself fiddling with the radio to try to tune in a clearer station than the quiet, staticky one currently playing.

They pulled into Hilde's store a few minutes later, and Quatre had to force himself to open the door and get out.

"I am _so _out of shape," he groaned, stretching his legs and shaking out the stiffness.

"Yeah, you are," Duo smirked, looking none the worse for wear, except for a small collection of twigs and debris that had found its way into the last few inches of his braid.

Quatre bent over to touch his toes and then straightened, wriggling his shoulders to loosen them up. As he did so, his gaze lit on the sign atop the convenience store. "Hey—how come Hilde never changed the name of the place from 'Howie's?' Wouldn't 'Hilde's' make more sense?"

"It would, except that Howie's was established so long ago that it's a veritable icon." Duo shook his head. "It'd be like re-naming the Mona Lisa or something."

"Actually," Quatre pointed out as they walked. "The painting does have another name—La Gioconda—after the woman, Lisa Gioconda, who—."

"Quat!"

"Hm?"

"Too much information," Duo said with a grin and a shake of his head. "Seriously. Does it ever get crowded in your head with all those facts floating around?"

"As a matter of fact, yes," Quatre said with a determined tilt to his chin. "It's not easy being the fountain of knowledge you lack, you know."

Duo threw an arm across his shoulders as they crossed the parking lot. "Well I'm glad somebody's up to the task, pal."

Hilde looked up the instant the door bell chimed, and her eyes widened as she saw them. "Duo! Hey—are you in trouble?"

He blinked and paused, exchanging a look with Quatre. "Not that I know of. Why?"

"Alex was in here looking for you."

"When?"

"This morning. Early. He came to get coffee—lots of coffee." She rolled her eyes expressively. "He said something vague about there being a bunch of volunteer firemen up near the Gorge. Y'think someone fell in?" Without waiting for a reply, she kept up the running dialogue. "It's a little early in the year for folks to be swimming—but you never know who might—."

Duo cut into her rambling monologue, while Quatre headed for the fresh pot of coffee, his nostrils twitching.

"So why'd Alex want _me_?"

"Didn't say." She eyed him suspiciously. "You haven't been messing with Otto or Trant, have you?"

"No! Do I _look _suicidal?"

"Hard to tell," she sniffed loftily.

"Well I'm not. I haven't seen either of those jerks since Otto and I crossed paths at the auto parts store. And I don't know what the hell Alex would want from me. I just saw him yesterday."

"You did? Where?"

"Up at the Gorge," Duo told her, his glance drifting to the steaming pot of homemade chili behind the counter. "You made your dad's famous chili?"

"Yep," she smirked. "Want some?"

"Quat and I'll take a couple of the biggest containers to go."

She moved to dish up the simmering food, glancing over at Quatre. "You don't know why Duo's in trouble, do you?"

"Haven't a clue," he said promptly, sipping his coffee and enjoying the warmth. "We saw Alex on our way out to go camping yesterday, and he said nothing about it."

"So how could I have gotten into trouble while I was gone?" Duo wondered.

"You're just that good at it," Hilde quipped, putting lids on the chili containers and setting them on the counter.

"Want to stop at the police station on the way home?" Quatre asked, bringing over a coffee for Duo.

"No!" Duo snapped hastily. "I do _not_." He added some bags of chips and a six-pack of soda to their purchases. "If Alex wants to talk, he can come to _me_."

"I can't imagine what he'd want," Quatre mused. "Unless of course Trant was gruesomely murdered in his sleep, in which case, you'd be the prime suspect."

"Har har," Duo drawled. "I'm not that lucky. It'd almost be worth it, to be rid of him for good."

"You didn't mean that," Quatre chided.

Duo smirked. "Maybe not the 'gruesome' part."

Hilde reached across the counter to smack his arm. "You're awful!"

"Yep. Now how 'bout ringing us up so we can get home and take hot showers to wash off the dirt we slept in last night?"

"You really went camping?"

Duo nodded.

"How was it?"

"Cold," Quatre spoke up with a dramatic little shiver.

"I told him ghost stories," Duo said with an evil grin.

"And we had s'mores," Quatre added. "It was a lot of fun. Except for that weird noise—." His eyes widened, and he abruptly stopped rambling, when Hilde fixed a curious look on him.

"Noise?"

Quatre hesitated, recalling all the times Duo had to deal with skepticism about the things he'd reported seeing or hearing.

"Might've been a moose," Duo said, smoothly stepping up to the plate. "Quat heard it better than I did." He gave a teasing grin. "Kinda spooked him a bit."

"Well more than your lame ghost stories did—that's for sure!" Quatre joked back, regaining his composure and the rhythm of the conversation.

Hilde had finished ringing up their purchases by then, and Duo paid her and gathered up the bag.

"We'll see you around, Hil. 'Kay?"

"Sure thing. And when you find out what Alex wanted, fill me in!" she called after them.

They piled back into the Jeep and headed for home.

"Maybe we should stop at the police station," Quatre said pensively.

"Um, _no_!" came the vehement reply.

"It could be important. What if it's news about the office?"

"They'd have been looking for _you_, not me."

"And what if someone had an accident?"

"Who, Quat?" Duo demanded. "I _have _no one but you that the police might need to contact me about."

"There's Howard."

Duo's eyes widened, and then he shook his head. "You are the biggest worry-wart _ever_. First off, the Smoky Hills cops would be the last to hear if anything happened to Howard. Hilde would hear about it _way _before them, and she'd have been the one looking for me."

Quatre huffed in frustration. "Okay. Can I just admit that I'm curious? And a little worried for your sake, too. I want to know you aren't in any trouble."

"I'm not," Duo said stubbornly. "I'd _know _if I'd done anything that'd get me into trouble." He glared briefly at his boss. "We're gonna go home, Quat. And if you wanna call Alex and dig for dirt, go right ahead. I'm taking a nap, after I hang up the camping gear to air out, wolf down a bowl or two of chili, and take a nice hot, soothing shower."

Quatre didn't comment further, and Duo just shook his head, sure his roommate would make that damned call the minute they got home.

He didn't know whether to be relieved or annoyed when he pulled into the driveway and saw the police cruiser sitting there.

"Okay—_now _I'm worried," he admitted, reaching for the shifter.

"Don't you dare think of taking off!" Quatre cautioned. "We are going to park, shut off the Jeep, and see what he wants."

"Easy for you to say," Duo muttered, following Quatre's orders. "You have a sister who's a lawyer."

He tried to look relaxed and unconcerned as Alex approached the Jeep.

"Hey, Officer Brown," Quatre piped up cheerfully. "Is there something we can help you with?"

"Kiss-ass," Duo mumbled in an undertone, darting a sidelong glare at his friend.

"At least I'm not a pig-headed, stubborn one," Quatre shot back between gritted teeth and a falsely-cheerful smile.

"Maxwell—."

Duo looked up at the officer outside his car door. "Yeah?" he asked defiantly.

"The Chief sent down orders. Nobody's to spill the beans about finding the rest of that skeleton."

Duo snorted wryly. "You shittin' me? With all the volunteer firemen you had there, you think it's gonna stay a secret?"

Alex grimaced slightly. "No. A couple of the guys already mouthed off over at Sally's. But we got to them before they talked about the location. Since it was a weekend and we were on a pretty remote stretch of road, hardly any cars went by all day. And you were the only one I talked to before the gag order came down. So—if anyone asks, you have no idea where the forensic crew went into the woods, right?"

"People are gonna figure out it's the Barton place," Duo pointed out. "The dog found the first bone there, so it's common knowledge."

"Yeah, but the Barton place is a few hundred acres. And both Yuy and Barton made it clear that if they have problems with trespassers lookin' for the place the skeleton was found, they'd make a nuisance of themselves calling us."

Duo grinned unsympathetically. "Sucks to be you, Al."

In a flash, the officer had reached in and grabbed the front of Duo's tee shirt, pulling him closer. "Listen up, Maxwell. If I find out you told _one_ person where those remains were found, I'll personally make your life a living hell!"

Duo's eyes narrowed in response. "Too late, asshole—it already _is_. So go threaten someone who gives a shit!"

"Actually," Quatre spoke up in an icy tone. "I don't believe police officers are supposed to be threatening _anyone_—especially innocent citizens." His blue eyes gleamed dangerously. "Do I need to call your Chief to report abuse, or are you going to let go of Duo and apologize?"

Alex let go, stepping back and glaring down at them.

Duo smoothed his rumbled tee shirt with exaggerated care.

"And the apology?" Quatre said sweetly.

Although his face turned an interesting shade of mottled red, Alex ground his teeth together and muttered, "Sorry."

Duo smiled with false benevolence. "Accepted, asshole."

Alex's fists tightened, but a sharp warning look from Quatre's icy blue eyes made him hold back his obvious rage.

"Look Duo," he said between clenched teeth. "I shouldn't have told you what was going on out there. Chief Tsubarov showed up right afterwards and had us move the forensic van out of sight—told us if anyone asked, we were just hauling some dumb shit kid out of the Gorge with a broken arm or something. He read the riot act to the rest of the guys up there about not divulging the location, 'cause it was a potential crime scene and all."

He swallowed hard, relaxing a little. "And he personally warned both me an' Ralph that if word got out, he'd have us walking a beat and making out parking tickets until we got writer's cramp and flat feet." He grimaced at the end of his speech.

"Well if you'd just asked me nicely, instead of playing the bully," Duo pointed out. "I'd have been happy to cooperate." He shrugged one shoulder. "Not so sure _now_. I mean, you stepped all over my civil rights just now. Maybe I wanna exercise some freedom of speech."

Quatre fought back a smirk at Duo's defiant tone.

"Maxwell—," Alex growled.

"Say 'please,'" Duo said abruptly, blinking wide, innocent eyes at the officer.

It was a wonder to both Duo and Quatre that Alex's head didn't explode; his face got so red.

But he throttled his anger, and in a strangled voice said, "Please."

Duo immediately smiled and relaxed. "Sure thing, Al. Mum's the word."

Quatre nodded as well. "We'll be happy to cooperate with our local constabulary, Officer Brown. All you had to do was ask. Nicely."

Alex threw them both a sullen glare before turning on his heel and stalking back over to his cruiser. He got in and revved up the engine, using the lawn to turn around so he could get past the Jeep, and then peeling off down the street with a screeching of tires.

"Think I pissed him off?" Duo asked sweetly.

Quatre dissolved into a fit of laughter. "He looked ready to chew nails!"

"Well, shit," Duo said, throwing open his door and getting out. "If he hadn't come on so strong—. I mean, _damn_. He knows how much I hate authority figures. He's known that since we were kids."

"Yes, well, it'd be easier to respect authority figures if they acted more mature."

"This is true," Duo conceded, as they began unloading the Jeep. "Tsubarov is really the only cop in town I _do _respect. I know too much about the rest."

"You went to school with most of the rest," Quatre added.

"Exactly." Duo smirked as he pulled out his backpack. "On the plus side, I know _all _their dirty little secrets. So if they ever wanted to play hardball, they'd lose—big time."

"Yes, but doesn't that mean they know all _your _dirty little secrets?"

"Y'mean, like my sexual preference?" Duo smirked. "Common knowledge, my man."

Quatre eyed him warily, while shaking out the tarp. "That can't be the only secret you've ever had—."

Indigo eyes glimmered wickedly. "It's not. But as for the rest—I'll never tell!"


	28. Back to Normal?

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing, bigotry, some OOC

Pairings: 1X2 eventually, 3X4 also eventually

SMOKY HILLS

_"I've been worried about Annabelle. She seems happy enough, and yet lately, she spends a great deal of time up near the falls where Aaron died. Is she wishing her unborn child was his, instead of Jacob's? And what would she think if she knew Jacob and Aaron fought over her, and that their scuffle caused the fall that killed Aaron? Would she hate the father of her child? Would she hate me for keeping the truth from her? I could have gone to the authorities; could have told them that Aaron's death was not quite the accident it seemed. But that would not have brought him back. Nor would it have lessened Jacob's grief. It would have served no purpose at all, except to place blame. And frankly, Jacob did enough of that himself. I wish I could get word to him, or even receive a letter from him_—_something to at least reassure me he's alive."_

—_excerpt from the private journal of Ephraim Barton_

Chapter Twenty Eight: Back to Normal?

After their all-too-exciting weekend, Heero and Trowa were both happy to get back to chores around the farm on Monday. Relieved that Leon's midnight serenade seemed to have garnered no attention, they resumed their preparations for getting their permit to keep exotics as well.

One of their first activities was moving Trowa's bed from the downstairs room he'd been occupying, to an upstairs bedroom he selected. There were four bedrooms, which made choosing a bit of a chore, especially when Trowa couldn't decide between wanting to have the best view of the mountains behind the house, or having a room that overlooked the barn and surrounding area. He finally opted for the one nearest the barn, so he could listen for Leon, if the animal made noise again.

"You know," Heero pointed out as they carried pieces of the bed frame into the spacious room. "You could always put one of those baby monitors out in the barn. It'd wake you up just as quickly as hearing Leon moaning all night."

"That's okay," Trowa assured him. "I want to be where I can just look out the window to see what's going on."

"So we'll install a video system—."

Trowa sighed. "Really, Heero. I don't mind this bedroom. It's actually got the better fireplace, and whoever modernized and added baseboard heating ran extra piping through here—so it'll be warmer." He gave a teasing grin. "You know how I like to be warm. All those winters in Florida with the circus—."

"So maybe you should sell this place and buy land down south. I think Leon might prefer it—," Heero teased.

Trowa shook his head stubbornly. "Like I said, there's something about this place that feels like home. It—." He wanted to say "talks to me," but knew it would sound foolish.

Heero raised an eyebrow. "It what?"

"It's like coming home to a place you've never been before," Trowa said with a scowl. "I know that sounds stupid, but—."

"No, it doesn't," Heero said firmly. "I feel it, too. Even though Dekim Junior was _your _father—not mine—I feel a certain affinity for this place. I actually understand how at home it makes you feel."

Trowa smiled in relief. "Thanks."

They finished their work in comfortable silence, dropping easily back into their "pre-bone" routine, as they called it, and by mid-week, Trowa had a bedroom as cozy and complete as Heero's.

Heero was especially glad when Trowa seemed to have forgotten about his idea to have a chat with Duo about Heero's availability. Not that he didn't want Duo to know he might be interested; but he really preferred handling things like that himself. Trowa's idea of "subtle" often left much to be desired.

Fortunately for Heero, Trowa chose to put his matchmaking skills to use on a different species first. He put in a call to Catherine, asking her to keep an eye out for another lion in need of a home. He firmly believed that Leon's mental health was at stake—not to mention their safety around an irritable lion—and that providing him with a companion was the best solution.

Catherine promised to put out feelers, and in the meantime Heero and Trowa worked each morning on new caging in the barn, with Leon looking on curiously; and on the afternoons that Trowa didn't have physical therapy, they each tended to their own mental health by indulging in separate activities.

Trowa's chosen pastime was to plant himself on the couch with the trunk of journals beside him, resting his knee while patiently reading through page after page of Ephraim's rambling monologues. And Heero took leashes in hand and went running with his two big wolfhounds—in the opposite direction from where the mysterious bones had been found.

Friday turned out to be a perfectly warm and breezy afternoon, ideal for being out in the woods, and when he went for his run, Heero used his memory of the topographical maps he'd procured to help him find his way to the reservoir.

In order to reach the vast expanse of sparkling water, he had to leave Barton land and cross a road, before making his way down to the dam where he'd met the forensic people just a few nights earlier.

There was a road across the dam, bordered by sidewalks on both sides, with a small parking area at each end. According to what Heero had gleaned from his early visit to the town hall, the place drew quite a few visitors in the summer months. People came to swim in the lake below the reservoir, which was open to the public. And quite a few took walks on the trails through the State forest, enjoying picnics on the lawn of the dam, and taking advantage of the handy parking lots.

Right now, the place was deserted, and Heero and his two hounds were the only pedestrians on the sidewalk leading to a stone building in the very center of the dam. It looked almost like a medieval tower, complete with a peaked roof—though it was only a single story in height. It was, of course, locked—presumably containing the controls for whatever operating system the dam builders had installed. There was a spillway off to one side, with water cascading over it from a long winter and wet spring.

"Hm—looks like the city won't run out of drinking water any time soon," Heero commented to his furry companions. The Compensating Reservoir, as it was called, provided water to the largest city in the area—about thirty miles away.

As he scanned the area, Heero noticed that just to the north of the spillway, along the steep bank of the reservoir, there was a rock ledge that jutted out a bit. If his map recollection was correct, it would be the one called Beech Bluff.

A motion caught his eyes, and he squinted against the bright sunlight, fixing his attention on the rocky promontory.

Sure enough, there was someone up there, walking along the edge and apparently looking out across the water.

Thor nudged his hand, and Heero absently scratched the shaggy head, watching the distant figure move around up on the bluff. From that distance, he couldn't make out features—only sandy, wind-blown hair on a medium-height, slender man.

It was no one he knew—no one he'd ever seen before. But that was to be expected, since he was new to the area, and strangers used the State land on a regular basis.

"Wonder how you get up there," he mused. The map had shown the nearest access road. But it didn't illustrate a path up to that point. Of course, that didn't mean there wasn't one. If what he'd seen so far was any indication, Heero doubted half of the trails through the remote woodland area were marked.

"Well, that's a hike for another day," Heero told the dogs, turning back the way he'd come and giving the leashes a gentle tug.

Surprisingly, Thor resisted him, suddenly standing rigid, with his head raised toward the stranger on the bluff. His hackles were up, and a low growl rumbled deep in his throat.

Balder joined him, catching his brother's anxiousness, and circling to stand slightly behind and to one side of him.

"Thor!" Heero scolded, frowning at the tense dog. He followed Thor's gaze back up to the figure on the hill, marveling that the animal could even see anyone from that distance. And the wind was all wrong for Thor to have smelled something.

Thor suddenly let loose with a volley of barking, his husky voice resounding across the water and echoing from the hills on either side. Balder joined in on that, too, and Heero tugged futilely at the leashes, trying to break the dogs' concentration.

He'd have sworn he didn't take his eyes off the person on the ledge, except for flinching when the dogs burst out with their barking—but in the blink of an eye, the man was gone.

"Thor! Balder!" Heero scolded, giving a sharper yank on the leashes. "What's gotten into you?"

And then as quickly as they started, both dogs stopped, snapping out of their paroxysm of rage and turning to look quizzically at their master. Thor shook himself hard, as if he'd just come out of the water, and then nuzzled Heero's hand, even as Balder wagged his tail enthusiastically and pranced around him.

"What the heck was your problem?" Heero wondered, looking in amazement at the two dogs. He'd never seen them get excited over a stranger before. They were usually quite friendly. And it wasn't even like the man had been near enough to be considered a threat.

Heero started back along the sidewalk, and both dogs obediently followed, as though they hadn't just made a startling outburst. "Weird dogs," he muttered, glancing around as they headed back towards familiar ground.

They ended up following the road back to the house, having gone a roundabout way in their explorations, and Heero stopped to grab the mail out of the box, giving a wistful look down the road.

"Damn," he muttered. "We missed him."

* * *

Trowa looked up from his books when Heero and the dogs walked in, and then his gaze slid over to the clock. "Sheesh, you guys were gone a long time," he noted.

"And you haven't moved from your reading," Heero tossed back, taking off the leashes and letting the dogs trot away to the kitchen for a drink. He plunked himself down on an arm of the couch. "Is it that fascinating?"

"Well—I found one of Dekim Senior's journals that talks about a still out in the forest, and a root cellar and stuff. But there's also mention of kids trespassing and strangers he saw on the property." Trowa looked up from under his thick fall of auburn hair. "The timing would put it a few years back, and I thought maybe he saw something that could be useful for your investigation—."

"You mean the Smoky Hills Police investigation," Heero corrected him carefully. "I told you, I have no intention of taking over unless they bungle the job."

"But maybe you could at least offer a bit of insight. If Dekim saw something, we could certainly bring it to their attention."

Heero gave a sigh. "_Did _he see something?"

"Ah—I'm not sure." Trowa held up a volume with obvious water damage. There was a clump of pages stuck together, the edges rippled and stained. "Three out of four of his journals are like this."

"Useless," Heero pointed out. He laid a hand on Trowa's shoulder. "Don't feel bad. There's probably nothing in them anyway. Seriously. What are the odds the old man knew anything about a body on the property?"

"That's just it!" Trowa blurted. "He knew everything! He prowled around at night out there, y'know—sneaking up to the still to make moonshine."

"Moonshine? I thought that was Samuel's project—during Prohibition."

"Yes, but Dekim kept the 'family tradition' alive. Said he didn't like store-bought liquor. It had no body to it—no kick."

Heero chuckled. "Spoken like a true hillbilly."

"I think he was," Trowa admitted.

"I thought your ancestors were farmers."

"Ephraim was. Jacob went off to fight in the Civil War after some tragedy—something about his best friend dying in an accident. Jacob's son Samuel was raised by Ephraim, after his mother passed away during childbirth. I haven't really gotten far in Samuel's journals; I kind of skipped ahead to Dekim's, hoping there'd be something useful about more recent events."

"Looking for a confession?" teased Heero.

Trowa glared at him. "No. It's not likely he'd have been stupid enough to write that he shot a trespasser and shoved the body under a tree."

"No, it's not," Heero said in an 'I told you so' tone. "Give it a rest, Tro'. Stop trying so hard to find clues where there aren't likely to be any. When Chang gets back to us with solid data, we'll have a better chance at narrowing down the time frame. _Then _you can dig through the journals and look for dates that would be sure to coincide with the burial."

"I suppose so," Trowa conceded, setting aside the damaged journal. "Assuming I can ever get these pages apart."

"Shit," Heero muttered. "I forgot!"

"Forgot what?"

Heero hung his head, looking suitably sheepish. "When I ran into Duo and his roommate at the grocery store that time, I told him you'd mentioned some damaged journals. He said Winner has some experience in document restoration."

Trowa gave his brother a scathing look. "And you just _now _thought to tell me that?"

"Hey—in my defense, it was a passing comment, and I had other, more pressing concerns in mind—."

"Yes, like how quickly you could get into the hot mailman's pants, right?" Trowa shot back.

"No!"

"Bullshit," Trowa said with a snort. "You were so dazzled by those big, blue eyes—."

"Purple," Heero said absently, his expression going a bit unfocused.

"Huh?"

"His eyes. They're a shade of blue that almost looks purple," Heero explained. "I guess you'd call it cobalt—or indigo."

"Well aren't you the poet?" Trowa teased, his annoyance over the forgotten information slipping away at the sight of the blush beginning to creep up Heero's cheeks. "All caught up in those beautiful eyes—."

Heero jerked back to awareness, bringing his wayward thoughts under control. "The point is, it slipped my mind that Winner might be able to help with the damaged journals. Until just now, when you showed me how bad they are, I hadn't given it a lot of thought."

"You mean, even when I was drooling in the car on the way back from the post office, it never occurred to you I might like having a legitimate excuse to visit the postmaster again?"

Heero cocked an eyebrow. "You've never needed excuses before, Trowa. As I recall, you were the one dragging me out to nightclubs looking for Mister Right. Since when did you become shy about making your interest in a person known?"

"Since I fell in love at first sight," Trowa snapped. Then he clamped his mouth shut, having blurted out more than he intended.

Heero's expression changed, becoming more serious. "Love at first sight doesn't exist," he said flatly. "It's either lust or infatuation. Nothing more."

"If only it were that simple," Trowa sighed. "But what I think I feel for Quatre isn't so easily explained." He looked up at his roommate's troubled scowl. "You know how I said this house feels like home? And it felt like that from the moment we arrived?"

Heero gave a reluctant nod.

"Well, I got that same feeling when I saw Quatre at the post office," Trowa continued. "It felt like coming home."

Heero sucked in a sharp breath, his frown deepening. "You're setting yourself up for a hell of a disappointment if he's not interested, you know."

"Yeah, I know," Trowa said quietly. "Why d'you think I've been such a chicken shit about asking him out? Most guys I've ever been interested in, I had a phone number and a date scheduled before we got to last names. But I couldn't get my mouth open to ask Quatre for either—because it mattered so much. If he said 'no,' I didn't know what I'd do."

"But if you don't ask—," Heero pointed out with a shrug.

"Exactly. You see my dilemma?"

"It's hard not to," Heero conceded. He put a hand on one of the damaged journals. "So—call him up and just ask for his help with the books, why don't you? Spend a little time with him that way, and you may find the words you're looking for."

Trowa smirked at the other man. "You're the younger brother, Yuy. You aren't supposed to be so full of wise advice."

Heero shrugged one shoulder. "Well, I'm working on taking my own advice," he admitted. "I was thinking I'd offer to buy Duo a cup of coffee next time I run into him at the mailbox. I could ask him about local gossip—possible leads on the investigation. And like you said, it'd show the local thugs he's not alone. If nothing else, I can at least be his friend—for starters."

"Beating me to the punch!" Trowa accused. "I wanted to be the one to tell him we're not a couple!"

Heero smiled patiently. "Worry about telling Quatre. I'll deal with Duo—okay?"

"Sounds fair," Trowa agreed.

He set aside the journal he'd been holding and his expression sobered a bit. "By the way, I talked to Catherine again while you were gone. She heard about someone a couple of states away who's been housing a lioness rescued from a theme park that got shut down. It had to have a foot amputated, because of poor housing and care—it'd had an injury that turned septic, and they didn't get a vet in time to save it."

Heero felt Thor nudge at his elbow, his whiskers dripping from slurping at his bowl of water, and he absently scratched the big head. "Poor animal."

"Yeah," Trowa agreed, his voice tight. "At any rate, Catherine said the lioness is supposed to be very tractable—friendly even. But since she's permanently lame, no one has offered to take her in. I thought she might be a good match for Leon, and not too much of a burden, if she can be handled fairly easily."

Heero sighed, and then nodded. "Much as I think it's early to be increasing our number of exotics, if it keeps Leon quiet and calm, I'm all for it."

"The only thing is, I'd have to go with Catherine to meet the animal," Trowa told him. "The rescue people won't turn her over unless they see how I interact with her."

"Can't fault them for that," Heero admitted. "When would we have to go?"

Trowa took a deep breath. "Catherine offered to pick _me_ up tomorrow. Early. It's a ten-hour drive."

"You?" Heero asked. "_Just _you?"

"Yes. It'll take a minimum of three days, and there's no one we could trust to care for Leon—so you'd have to stay here." He looked up from under his bangs, knowing his overprotective caretaker might be hard to convince.

"Does it have to be so soon?" Heero frowned in concern. "You're barely walking without crutches—. You still need them when you overdo it and get fatigued."

"I know, but mostly I'd be riding in the car. And yeah, it's kind of urgent. They're on the verge of making the decision to euthanize Sandy, if she can't be placed. Sooner would be better."

Heero's shoulders slumped a bit, but he nodded. "It's up to you, Tro'. As you pointed out, you're pretty much back on your feet."

Trowa grinned up at him. "Wow. That hadda be hard!"

"You've no idea."

The auburn-haired man stood up and gave his brother a one-armed hug. "I hope you know how much I appreciate that you took care of me—and that I understand how hard it is for you to stop."

Heero pushed him away, smirking teasingly. "Get over yourself, Barton. You think I enjoyed being your servant and nursemaid? Think again!"

Trowa laughed aloud, heading out towards the kitchen. "How about I show my appreciation by helping with dinner?"

"As if that'd be enough to pay me back," Heero said with a snort. "You still owe me, and don't you forget it."

"Whatever you say."

"Whatever?" Heero asked, smirking. "Okay then—I say that while I start dinner, you're going to put a quick call in to the local post office and set something up with Winner. How's that for starters?"

"I wasn't being literal—."

"Well I am. Call him. I'll stay out in the kitchen so you can have some privacy while you sputter and grovel." He quirked a snide smirk at Trowa. "You know you _will_."

As he went past his roommate, he jerked a thumb in the direction of the phone in the hallway. "The telephone directory is in the little cubby in the stand it sits on."

Trowa sighed, turning towards the aforementioned phone. "Got all the answers, don't you, Yuy? 'There's the phone.' 'There's the phone book.' Smart ass."

"That's me," came an unrepentant reply as his brother disappeared in the direction of the kitchen.

Trowa walked over and looked down at the innocent telephone, trying to steel his nerves as he reached for the receiver. "Say, what time is it anyway?"

"Five-thirty," Heero called back. "Shit—that's right. The post office closed at five. Why don't you look up his home number?"

"Because I'm not that presumptuous," Trowa replied, sighing and walking into the kitchen. He wasn't sure whether to feel relieved or disappointed about the reprieve. "I'll call when I get back from the trip—how's that?"

"Sounds pretty chicken shit to me," Heero said with amusement. He turned and tossed a head of lettuce, which Trowa caught in mid-air. "Since you weaseled out of the call, I guess you can help me make dinner after all. Get to work on that, while I start on the main course."

"Slave driver," Trowa mock-grumbled. "A _nice_ brother would take me out to dinner on a Friday night."

Heero glanced over his shoulder. "I would if there were any place worth going to around here. But since there's not, I'm going to feed you a wholesome, balanced meal. That's as 'nice' as I'm gonna get."

"Love ya too," Trowa smirked, grabbing a bowl and starting on his part of the meal.


	29. Another Dateless Friday Night

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing, bigotry, some OOC

Pairings: 1X2 eventually, 3X4 also eventually

A/N: Hopefully now that this chapter is conquered, I can recapture the flow of words I'd been floundering with. Although, I've gotta say, having someone badgering me in e-mails about "all" the stories I've supposedly abandoned, really got me steamed. My Halloween story will be finished shortly. This one will be continuing until it's complete. And "Academy," my only somewhat stalled story, WILL be finished. All my other stuff is already complete. So, I dunno where people get their notions, but that one person should probably only read stories labeled as "complete" if they are going to be such a twerp! Seriously.

SMOKY HILLS

_"I buried old Red today. Damn fool of a hound dog! I owe him my life. We were out in the forest hunting, when we stumbled across a puma kill. And before I could even call Red back, the puma appeared from nowhere and jumped straight at me. I hadn't the time to bring my gun up to fire, but Red leapt to my defense. He wasn't a young dog, and the devil of a cat just ripped into him. I held back shooting, afraid of hitting my faithful hound, until I realized he was about to die either way. At least I gained the satisfaction of burying the mountain lion as well as old Red. And Red lived long enough to lick my hand goodbye, as I knelt beside him and told him he'd won the fight, in the end. I kept the lion's hide, to show Jacob if he ever makes it back home. He loved that dog_—_almost as much as I did__…"_

—_excerpt from the private journal of Ephraim Barton_

Chapter Twenty Nine: Another Dateless Friday Night

Duo settled into their regular booth at Sally's, stretching his legs out under the table. "I'm tellin' ya, Quat, you won't find your answers in that book."

"But it says here that lions can make a moaning sound—."

"Sure. African lions. But no self-respecting puma's gonna make a noise that could be mistaken for a moose."

Sally caught the tail end of the sentence as she brought them drinks and menus. She raised an eyebrow. "You saw a moose?" she asked.

"No. Quat _heard _one," Duo told her, taking his drink and nodding thanks.

"It wasn't a moose." Quatre brandished his book. "Says here that autumn is their rutting season."

"Yes, but there's no law against some dumbass moose with a lousy sense of timing letting out an off-season bellow," Duo argued. He leaned in closer to Quatre. "Just go with that theory, would ya? Before you end up getting laughed out of town, too." He looked up at Sally with a disarming smile. "D'you have fried scallops this week?"

"For you, honey, any time," Sally said with a grin, jotting down Duo's second-favorite meal. "Rice for a side—and salad with honey mustard?"

"Yeah, thanks," he said brightly.

"I just don't believe it was a moose," Quatre piped up, glaring over his menu at Duo. "I'll have chicken parmesan and a side salad with Italian dressing."

"What then?" Duo scoffed. "A mountain lion with a stomach ache?"

Sally perked up at the mention of mountain lions. "Quatre? You saw one, too?"

"No. I _heard _something when we went camping last week."

"Oh." She looked vaguely disappointed. "Lotsa things out in those woods, dear," she said with a shake of her head. "Maybe you heard Barton's Hounds…"

"Sal—!" Duo warned, glaring.

Quatre turned a questioning look on the woman.

"Every Barton has had dogs," Sally told him. "From that original Ephraim guy right down to the new one. And supposedly, on moonlit nights the ghosts of all the Barton dogs that are buried on their land run in a pack and chase down trespassers—."

"Cut it out, Sally!" Duo barked sharply. "She's yankin' your chain, Quat."

The blonde looked at Sally just in time to see her drop the far-away look and start grinning.

"Oh—_you_!" he snapped.

Sally giggled in delight. "You were actually buying it, weren't you?" she teased.

Quatre scowled at her. "Maybe you should cancel my order. Not sure I'm hungry any more."

She smirked gently. "Aw, don't be mad. It's true about the rumor—people have heard dogs out there sometimes. But they're probably just local ones that got loose—out chasing deer or something. Maybe you heard a coon hound baying; they make a pretty mournful sound."

Quatre gave a reluctant shrug. "Yeah, maybe," he conceded. "I just never heard anything like it before."

She patted his shoulder. "You're fairly new to town," she pointed out. "Stay here long enough, and you'll hear it _all_."

She went off to place their orders, and Duo eyed Quatre with an "I told you so" look. "Relax, buddy," he suggested. "I'll admit it could've been a mountain lion, if you'll admit an equal possibility it was a moose."

"I guess," Quatre sighed, still a bit frustrated. He looked up at Duo with a frown. "It really sucks that you didn't hear it too."

"Hear what—?" Hilde asked, sliding in next to Duo.

"Noise in the woods," Duo said in a quick mumble, glossing over the whole thing so Hilde wouldn't pry.

"Oh." She stole a sip of Duo's soda. "Hey, guess what! Barton's dog led the cops to the rest of that skeleton!"

Duo made an exaggerated yawning motion, and Quatre crossed his hands behind his head, leaning back and looking bored.

"You _knew_?" she demanded.

"Everyone knows," Duo said blandly, having heard the chatter around town all week. "Sorry, hon—no scoop there."

Sally showed up at that moment, with their salads and Hilde's drink, and after taking the girl's order, she paused and leaned one hand on a hip. "If you guys _want _a scoop, I may have something for you," she suggested. "Ralph told me that when the Yuy guy's dog found the rest of the remains, he called his forensic buddy in Sanc and _that _guy—Chang something—got all over Tsubarov's case about conducting a proper investigation. He made them cordon off the area and everything, until his crew could get out there and pick up all the pieces." She rolled her eyes dramatically. "Ralph said they figure maybe it was a hiker or camper who got sick—had a heart attack or something—and Tsubarov's pretty sure the city folks are overreacting."

"Did he say where they found it?" Hilde asked.

Duo and Quatre exchanged a quick glance.

"No," Sally admitted. "It was—confidential. But I got the impression it was somewhere on Barton land, near the State forest." She glanced away as someone hailed her, looking for a refill. "Back in a bit, kids," she said, hurrying off to tend to other customers.

Hilde snorted. "_Most _of the Barton land is near the State forest. That doesn't really narrow it down." She tapped her chin speculatively. "Maybe it had to do with those fire trucks out on Dibble Hollow Road…"

"Um—if I were you, I'd keep that theory to myself," Quatre said carefully. "The last thing we need is to start rumors that encourage local kids to trespass, you know."

She waved a hand airily. "Kids have been trespassing on Barton land since Colonial times—right Duo?"

He grinned and ducked his head. "Maybe."

"You still got the 'no trespassing' sign Solo stole?"

He shook his head, sobering as he recalled the first "romantic" gift Solo had ever given him—stolen just for him. "Naw—kept it in my room at the orphanage. It burned down along with the rest of the place."

She winced and then moved quickly ahead with the conversation. "At any rate, I think it's pretty exciting that they found a whole skeleton, don't you?"

Quatre rolled his eyes. "Duo says he's not curious about it."

"What?" Hilde demanded. "C'mon, Maxwell. You're the nosiest person in town. Don't you want to know who it was?"

He gave a shrug. "Does that matter? 'S not like it'd be anyone we know. Probably someone that died decades ago."

"Of course it matters!" she chirped brightly. "It's a mystery!" She leaned forward conspiratorially. "And you are right in the thick of it."

"Me?" Duo demanded, looking alarmed. "Hey—I've got nothing to do with any dead body—!"

"No, silly," she scoffed, punching his arm. "You deliver mail to the Barton place. You could probably find out stuff from the hot Japanese guy."

Duo glared at her. "I doubt _he _had anything to do with it either."

"Yes, but if he's in touch with the forensic people, you can probably find out all the juicy details next time you take a package or letter to the Barton place!" Hilde said hopefully. She batted her eyes at him. "You know you want to."

Duo sighed, smirking a bit. "Maybe it'd be interesting to find out how much they really can figure out from just a pile of old bones—."

Quatre nudged him with an elbow. "You talked about letting the dead rest—but I'll bet that one would do it a lot easier once it's identified."

"True." Duo nibbled on a carrot, his expression pensive. "It'd be pretty cool if it was really old—maybe someone from the Barton clan—."

"I'm not sure the forensic people would be that worked up over it," Quatre mused, frowning. "Their reaction seems more urgent—like it might be a recent death."

Duo snorted. "Seen Otto or Trant lately?" He gave an evil smirk. "Maybe I finally found a place to hide the bodies."

Sally showed up just then with Duo's and Quatre's meals and Hilde's salad. And after she left, Hilde picked up a fork and poked at her greens, looking a bit uncomfortable.

"Otto was at the store yesterday," she admitted quietly. "Without Trant, for a change."

Duo grimaced, hoping Otto hadn't actually taken his advice. Whether he hung around with Trant or not, Duo didn't want the intolerant jerk dating one of his best friends.

"He's not _all_ bad," Hilde added, not quite looking at Duo.

"Ugh! We are _not _starting this!" Duo insisted. "You are too damned good for him!"

Hilde pursed her lips, looking pointedly away. "According to you, I'd be too good for a fucking _prince_."

"Exactly!" Duo said with a grin.

She couldn't stay mad in the face of such good-natured concern. "Well maybe you could put in a good word for me with Green Eyes."

"Why not Blue Eyes?" Quatre asked with a trace of defensiveness.

"Because if the way he looked at Duo that time at the store was any indication," she grumbled, "it'd be a waste of time."

Duo gaped at her. "The way—? What do you mean?"

"I mean, he looked worried about you—maybe interested," she said with a sigh.

Duo grimaced. "He'd just seen Trant and Otto bullying the shit out of me. Anyone would've looked worried. Besides, even if he _is _gay, I've seen his roommate, who is also drop-dead gorgeous. What're the odds he'd dump him for me? And d'you think I'd _want _to break up a couple—if that's what they are?"

"The point is," Quatre cut in. "You don't know either way. Why don't you just be your usual charming self the next time you see the man, and let him know you're interested? You know he's gay—."

"—and possibly taken," Duo reminded him.

"You're just making excuses," Quatre said with a scowl. "Why d'you keep sabotaging yourself that way? Why not just ask the guy out for lunch or something; give it half a chance?"

Duo shrugged, using his fork to split a scallop in two. "Not like I see him at the mailbox all that often," he muttered. "An' I don't know the phone number—."

His boss glared in exasperation. "I swear, if you come up with one more excuse—I'll drive up there myself and ask him straight out if he's available and interested."

"You wouldn't dare!" Duo looked up, horrified, while Hilde chuckled in the background at their little by-play.

"You hope I wouldn't," Quatre shot back. "And if you don't want to find out, I suggest you shelve your insecurities and just offer to buy him a cup of coffee or something. Ask about the dog, or his bird or _something_."

"Last time I tried that I ended up telling him to have a nice day," Duo lamented.

"Seriously?" A smirk began to grow on Quatre's lips, and Hilde's snickers bubbled into genuine laughter.

Duo spared her a scathing glance, until she threatened to fling a cherry tomato at him, balancing it on the end of her spoon as if it were a catapult.

At that point, Duo's shoulders slumped and he cast an embarrassed look at Quatre. "Yeah. I just froze up and got nervous and told him to have a nice day," sighed the brunet. "Felt like a fucking moron, too."

"With good reason," chuckled Quatre. "God, Duo—do I have to coach you on how to talk to guys?"

"Well it's not like you did much better, did you?" Duo accused. "You let Trowa walk out of the office without lining up a date!"

"I might not have, if you'd told me he had journals to be restored," grumbled Quatre. "It would have given me a perfect 'in' to set up a meeting with him."

"And would you have had the guts to do it?"

"Yes," came the firm reply.

"Good for you," Duo muttered, trying to look interested in his food. "Maybe after you and Trowa are an item, you can invite Heero and me for a double date, hm?"

"I will," Quatre assured him. "Although, I'd rather hoped you wouldn't need my help that much."

"I don't," came a petulant reply. "Why don't you just leave me to my misery?"

"Because I'm determined to help you end it." Quatre turned his friend's face towards him and looked Duo squarely in the eyes. "You, Duo Maxwell, are a great guy. You have a killer sense of humor, are way more gorgeous than you give yourself credit for, and are smart and fun to hang out with. Let Heero see _that _side of you, and he won't be able to help falling for you."

"Says you."

"Yes, I do."

"Me, too!" Hilde piped up. "If you talked to Heero the way you talk to me, he'd see what a good friend you are. You already saved his dog once. And he returned the favor at the store. There's the beginning of a friendship there, and the potential for way more. Just give it a chance. Give _yourself _a chance."

Duo sighed heavily. "I want to. I just keep making a mess out of every conversation we almost have."

"So this time, try to forget it's Heero you're talking to," Quatre suggested. "Pretend it's me—or Trowa. You didn't have trouble talking to Trowa, right?"

"Yeah."

"So, just pretend it's him, instead of Heero. Try to relax." Quatre narrowed his blue eyes. "Seriously, what's the worst that could happen—you say something stupid and look like an idiot?"

"Well—."

"According to you, that's already happened. So this time, there's no pressure. You can't possibly fumble any worse than you did with the 'have a nice day' moment."

Even Duo had to smile at that. "True," he admitted.

"Okay. Now that you acknowledge that, there should be nothing to make you nervous about talking to Yuy again. Next time just be yourself and joke around like you do with me. Trust me—he'll see how great a catch you'd be."

"I hope so," Duo said quietly. "Because I kind of think he might be a great catch, too."

"Then get fishing!" Quatre urged.

Sally arrived with Hilde's meal, and Duo breathed an audible sigh of relief as their conversation turned from his non-existent love life back to the latest gossip around town, and what their weekend plans were. With the spotlight off him, the weary mailman could relax and enjoy his Friday night, grateful for the company of his good friends, no matter how pathetic the dating prospects in Smoky Hills were. There was something to be said for friendship, after all—it was something to count on in spite of what life threw his way. It made other shortfalls seem just a bit less important in the grand scheme of things. It kept life somewhat interesting, and more importantly, it kept life bearable. And that was good enough for Duo; at least for the time being.


	30. Solitude

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing, bigotry, some OOC

Pairings: 1X2 eventually, 3X4 also eventually

A/N: Holy crap! I went to a site called "bear tracker" something, and played the audio of a female cougar in heat. Creepiest sound ever!

SMOKY HILLS

_"I have never felt so alone in my life. Annabelle died in childbirth, leaving me with a grandson to raise, and I've no idea what to do. There's been no word from Jacob. I fear he's dead, probably without ever having received my letters telling him he was going to be a father…"_

—_excerpt from the private journal of Ephraim Barton_

Chapter Thirty: Solitude

Heero was a bit surprised at how very empty the farm felt without Trowa there. While he still had the dogs and birds, as well as Leon, the house seemed hollow with his brother away. He wondered if it had felt that way to Trowa when he'd been out all day on errands, although, he'd at least been back by the end of each day. Trowa wasn't due back for several.

Heero put the time to good use, braving the slightly musty basement in order to do a thorough inspection of the plumbing and heating system. He figured they'd have to have a furnace person out to clean and prep the thing, but if he'd given it a once-over, he'd have a fair idea of how extensive their work might be.

He found that the most time-consuming part was just making sure the clutter was cleared out to allow access to the furnace and attached plumbing. It took him nearly a whole day to haul out boxes of old magazines, kindling, and assorted chipped dishes that the previous inhabitant had apparently been reluctant to part with.

Between that task, and then painting another of the bedrooms, which could eventually become a guest room, if they bought furniture for it, he kept busy for the better part of the weekend, and the time fairly flew past.

But when Trowa called on Sunday evening, it was still nice to hear a human voice.

"Hey, 'Ro—how's it going?"

"Fine," he said, feeding Wing and Zero bits of pasta off his plate as he settled the phone in the crook of his neck. "Leon's been quiet. Thor and Balder haven't chewed up any furniture, and your bird learned a new swear word."

"He did? I thought I taught him all of them," came the amused response.

"Apparently not."

"Gonna tell me what he learned?"

"I think I'll let him surprise you." Heero tickled Wing under the chin and the myna bird chuckled happily. "So, how'd it go with the lioness?"

"She's great!" Trowa said enthusiastically. "Sweet as can be—a real pussycat to handle."

"No pun intended?"

"Of course not." Trowa paused, and Heero frowned, wondering what he was hesitating over. "Hey, Catherine had an idea. She wants to take me back to Sanc with her for a couple of days, to see the gang at the circus—seeing as we have to pass pretty near it to get home."

Heero was on the verge of saying he thought it was a bad idea—that it would be too much traveling for his newly-recovered roommate. But then he forcibly reminded himself that was all up to Trowa. "I see," he said simply.

"I thought maybe I could stop by the permit office as well, and try to speed things up a bit," Trowa added. "It'd be better for me to talk to Zechs, I think."

Heero snorted. "No shit." He looked around the quiet kitchen, trying to come up with a way to say he missed Trowa without actually saying it. "So, any idea when you might get back?"

"Sometime Thursday most likely. Does that sound okay?"

"Fine."

"You don't sound thrilled," Trowa said perceptively. "Getting protective again?"

"It's not that—."

"Is it the work?" Trowa asked, his tone shifting to an apologetic one. "I'm sorry to have dumped Leon and everything on you—and after all you've done for me—."

"Trowa," Heero snapped sternly, gaining his attention and cutting off the ramble. "It's not that either. Not at all. I don't mind caring for Leon. He's been great."

"Oh." There was a long pause, and then a soft snicker. "Miss me?"

Heero winced as his brother hit the nail on the head. "In your dreams," he said snidely. "I've been so busy I hardly noticed you're gone—except when I don't have to set a second place at the table. And frankly, Thor and Balder offered to take your spot."

"They would," Trowa said with an audible grin. "I miss you, too," he said warmly. "I miss your cooking a lot. All those healthy meals were actually damn tasty. And you're pretty good company, for a sour-tempered ex-cop." There was another short pause and then, "Say—any news from Chang about the skeleton?"

"Not a word. But it's only been a week, and I'm assuming he's got other, more urgent cases on the table as well."

"True," Trowa agreed. "I take it Thor hasn't dug up any more trouble."

"Not a bit. But then, I've kept our walks closer to home, and just taken one dog at a time," Heero told him. "I prefer to stay within hearing distance of Leon."

"Good idea. Speaking of which, have the cops been back out?"

"No, although if I were in their place, I'd probably be more suspicious of myself than they act. I mean, right after they showed up wanting to look around, you and I managed to locate the rest of the skeleton—far away from the house. If I were them, that would make me kind of curious."

"Maybe they're running a background check on us even as we speak," Trowa suggested.

"Could be. Or maybe Chang browbeat them so completely they don't dare question us," Heero speculated.

"I doubt that," Trowa mused. "Seeing as he was the one who pushed them into a full-scale investigation. It's more likely that being in a small town, dealing with nothing but petty crimes and speeding tickets, has made them more relaxed about that stuff." Trowa gave a chuckle. "Besides, as you pointed out to them, you'd hardly have brought them a bone in the first place, if you were trying to hide a crime."

"True." Heero frowned thoughtfully, pushing his plate aside and leaning back in his chair. "I don't know. Maybe they're right to be casual about this. Maybe there really _is _a reasonable explanation for the skeleton."

"Can you think of one?"

Heero pictured the location of the body, recalling how far it was off State land—off the beaten path. "Not really," he admitted.

"Me neither," Trowa agreed. "So stick to your guns. You said if they fumble the investigation, you'll step in. I expect you to do it, if the time comes."

"Yeah, I will," Heero sighed, knowing he couldn't sit by if the local police didn't do their job on the investigation.

"Good. Hey listen, Cathy and I are about to stop for the night, so I gotta go."

"Hey wait!" Heero said quickly. "Should I be expecting you two to pull in here with a lion transport in tow?"

"Not just yet," Trowa told him. "The paperwork is all filed, but it'll take a couple of weeks for processing, and for the letters of reference from Cathy and her veterinarian to be checked out. Then she'll deliver Sandy when we say we're ready."

"The caging looks good," Heero assured him. "And I started clearing out some small saplings and underbrush for the outside enclosures we'll need. We can have permanent housing for her and Leon finished up before winter. No more of the temporary setup in the barn."

"Great. Heero—." Trowa hesitated, and his voice got a little husky. "You are seriously the best brother, and the best friend a guy could have. You know that, right?"

Heero smiled despite himself. "Yeah, I do," he said gently. "You've said it more than enough times. And the feeling's mutual."

They said their goodbyes then, and Heero felt a little less isolated as he washed the dishes and tidied up the kitchen.

After his usual evening walk, he read for awhile, and then decided to turn in early. He made the rounds, checking on Leon and letting the dogs have a final potty break, before locking the birds in their cages for the night, locking up the house and heading for bed. He was asleep almost before his head hit the pillow.

* * *

It had been days since Heero had a nightmare, and he was just beginning to drift down that disturbing path, when something woke him.

He sat up sharply, one hand flailing out and settling on Thor's head, as the big hound was standing beside his bed, hackles raised as he looked out the window.

"What's the matter, boy?" he asked.

But just as he started to stroke the shaggy head, there was a shrill scream from somewhere out in the forest—a scream so unearthly that it made the small hairs on the back of Heero's neck stand up.

Thor and Balder instantly ran to the window, barking madly at whatever had made the noise, and then the unmistakable sound of Leon's roar momentarily drowned them out.

"Fuck!" Heero blurted, throwing off his covers and grabbing for a bathrobe to throw over the tee shirt and boxers he'd slept in. He flicked on the light switch and shoved his feet into some shoes, before hurrying down the hall.

Thor and Balder were on his heels and then rushing ahead down the stairs to leap at the front door, barking and scrabbling to get out.

"No!" he snapped, grabbing a flashlight and shoving the dogs aside, so he could step out onto the porch alone.

He didn't want the dogs bursting out of the house and running headlong into a fray with some wild animal; so he pulled the door shut behind him shining the flashlight towards the barn.

The beam of light shone on an empty yard, but Heero caught a flicker of motion at the farthest edges of illumination—something pale that kept to the darkest shadows as it slipped towards the thick underbrush behind the barn.

"What the—?" Heero hesitated as Leon roared again, wanting to pursue the interloper, but smart enough to know better than to dash out into the darkness unarmed. "Hang on, Leon," he called, before stepping back inside and flipping on the porch lights, as well as the ones along the walkway out to the barn.

Thor and Balder were still bounding restlessly around, barking and scrabbling across the wooden floors, wanting to get outside. Heero decided maybe if he let them into their fenced yard, they'd make enough fuss to keep the intruder from coming back. So he walked them through the kitchen and opened the door, turning on the light out there as well.

The dogs immediately ran to the fence, barking madly at whatever creature they heard or smelled out in the forest, and Heero gave a grim smile, feeling confident that the ruckus would keep it from coming back any time soon. He headed back through the house, grabbing the cane that Trowa had left in the kitchen, and holding it like a club as he once again stepped out onto the porch.

There was no sign of life in the yard this time, and Heero walked quickly over to the barn, opening the side door and turning on the lights inside, so he could check on Leon.

The big lion was pacing restlessly, a low growl rumbling from his chest as he looked around his domain.

"Relax. It's gone," Heero said soothingly. He knew the lion wouldn't understand his words; but Trowa had said talking in a quiet, reassuring tone would help calm him down.

Leon ignored him completely, too fixated on the recent intruder to pay any attention to the man standing by the door.

"Leon," Heero said a bit more forcefully.

The animal knew its name, and the stern tone was enough to earn Heero a brief glance.

"Easy, big guy. It's all gone now. And your buddy Trowa will be back in a couple of days, with arrangements made for your new girlfriend to come live with you. How's that sound?" Heero walked closer, and the big, golden eyes fixed on him as Leon stopped pacing. "You like that, huh?" Heero asked. "You like the idea of company."

Leon let out a low, distressed sound, and then sat down, looking at his caretaker as if to ask for more reassurance.

"Wish you could tell me what I saw out there," Heero said with a frown. "If the scream came from that, no wonder you're a nervous wreck." He smiled ruefully. "So am I." He thought back to Duo's warning about bears and other wild animals, hoping that Leon's presence hadn't lured in one of the mountain lions that were rumored to inhabit the hills.

"It would make sense, though," he said aloud, shaking his head and walking over to the meat locker to take out something to distract and occupy Leon for the rest of the night. "After your serenade last weekend, maybe a lonely mountain lion is looking for company too."

He tossed the snack into the pen, and Leon grabbed it eagerly, settling down to gnaw on the treat while Heero checked to make sure all the windows were still secure. It only took a few minutes, and then the Japanese man decided he could lock up again and return to the house. He was tempted to look around for tracks or something to confirm what he might have seen; but he thought it would be better to wait until morning, when he'd have more than the feeble illumination of a single flashlight.

"Go back to sleep, Leon," he advised as he headed out. "I know that's what I'm going to do."

Thor and Balder had quieted down, by the time Heero went to the back door to call them in, and they came right over, apparently as happy to return to bed as he was.

He thought he might have trouble falling back asleep after the upheaval, but surprisingly drifted off shortly after curling back up under the warm quilt. Fortunately, he didn't dream again.

* * *

When morning came, he went through his normal routine—feeding the dogs, birds and Leon, and then himself, and taking Balder for a morning run—before he pursued his investigation of the midnight intruder.

But as soon as he circled around the back of the barn, he saw enough tracks to convince him the animal had lingered for quite awhile there.

The tracks were four-toed, with a very distinct pad-print in the middle, and when Heero put a hand over one, it was a bit larger than his palm. So whatever he'd seen had been a big animal. And considering Leon's presence, he was fairly convinced it was a mountain lion.

He wished there were someone who could look at the tracks and tell him for sure, but he'd heard enough at the grocery store and around town to know mountain lions were a hotly debated topic, and that inquiring about them would probably get him laughed at—again.

Much as he'd ignored the taunting about the bone he'd found, it had stung nonetheless. And he didn't feel like opening himself up to more ridicule—let alone drawing attention to the farm while the permit for Leon was still not finalized.

But just because he couldn't ask for a second opinion, that didn't mean he couldn't pursue a lead on his own. He was perfectly capable of logging on to the internet at some point, to get information on animal tracks.

With that decided, Heero resumed his work around the farm. He had yet to finish the porch he'd begun sanding and painting back before the bone-finding incident; so he tackled that chore again, figuring that while Trowa was away, he could work on the sections they used the most, and simply go in and out through the kitchen entrance.

He worked all day, and then after supper decided to spend some time on-line, just to satisfy his curiosity sooner rather than later.

But after logging on to the dial-up connection and clicking on the first web site that came up on a search, he knew it was going to be an exercise in futility. First there was a problem loading the page, and he had to backtrack to the search engine again. Then, when he tried another site, the connection failed altogether.

"This is bullshit!" he hissed in exasperation, trying the dial-up again, only to get another error message. At this rate, he could spend all night trying to identify a single track. "Dammit, Trowa, when you get back we are going to look into at _least _a satellite hookup. Seriously."

In the meantime, he still wanted some answers, and in the absence of his preferred method of research, he decided he could fall back on the tried and true. Duo had mentioned a library that day in the grocery store. They'd almost certainly have a book on animal tracks or the local flora and fauna.

Heero looked at the clock on the wall, wondering how late the place might be open, and then decided not to waste time looking up the number and calling. It was high time he got out for a bit anyway. So he hopped in the car and headed into downtown Smoky Hills.

_Downtown. _

Heero had to chuckle as he drove, trying to imagine the rural town as a bustling metropolis with what he'd consider a "downtown." It was so far off, it was almost ludicrous.

Instead of busy streets, there was a center green, with some kind of Civil War statue and a quaint brick sidewalk leading up to it. Aside from a few shops, the grocery store, an auto parts place, and a pharmacy, there was little in the way of retail outlets. But there was a small complex housing the police department, town hall, and public works department. And right next to that was a sign for the Smoky Hills Public Library.

Heero decided the library was housed in what was probably a genuine, original historical building, as he pulled into the five-car parking lot. He tried not to sigh as he took the only empty space, wondering if the other four cars belonged to employees, or if it was a particularly "busy" night.

He suppressed a grin at the thought, as he climbed the steps onto the painted porch and pulled open the massive oak door to let himself in.

"Can I help you?" asked a grey-haired woman behind the check-out desk.

He was tempted to tell her that yes, she could—she could direct him to a _real _library. But instead, he shook his head. "Just browsing. I'm new to town."

"Yes, I know," she said brightly. "You must be Mister Yuy, since you don't look much like a Barton."

Again he bit his tongue, wondering what she'd make of it if he told her Trowa was his brother. No need to explain their link was only maternal.

"Will I need to fill something out for a library card?" he asked, figuring he might as well get it over with.

She smiled and handed over a form and a pen. "Just fill in the blanks, and if you could show me a driver's license or something, that'll be fine."

He went through the process and was given a small paper card, with a metal tab on it. He smirked as he tucked it into his pocket, thinking that Trowa was going to bust a gut when he showed it to him.

"This is the main floor," the woman told him. "Card catalogs are over that way. Children's books are downstairs and reference upstairs. Everything else is on this floor." She gestured towards the floor to ceiling book shelves that gave the building a somewhat maze-like appearance.

He paused, letting a disappointed gaze sweep the area. Not that he'd expected state-of-the-art facilities in a town like Smoky Hills, but he'd hoped for at least a computerized card catalog.

Instead, there were wooden pull-out drawers in an ancient cabinet, and books were listed by author, title, and subject.

"At least they have the Dewey decimal system," he muttered, shaking his head, and heading over to begin his search.

He went straight to the subject listings, choosing animal tracks as the most likely source, and found only one book listed, "Wildlife of the Northwest Hills." He memorized the number and started walking among the rows of shelves, looking for the location of the book.

When he got there, however, the spot was empty.

"Shit." He scowled, shifting his gaze from "Pets for Every Household," to "Plant Life of New England."

"Can I help you find something—? Oh, hi Mister Yuy!"

He looked up to see the blonde postmaster at the end of the aisle, just about to slip a book back onto the shelf. "Hello."

Quatre popped the book into place, smiling in greeting. "Were you looking for a particular book?" He nodded towards where Heero's hand rested against the shelf.

Heero blinked in surprise. "You work here?"

"No, not really," Quatre replied with a grin. "The post office is a full-time job. But I volunteer here a couple of nights a week. Sometimes I help in the archives—but when there are books to shelve, I lend a hand with that, too." He waved the book in his other hand. "Last one."

"Ah." Heero glanced at the empty spot where the book he sought should have been. "Would you know where 'Wildlife of the Northwest Hills' might be found?"

"Oh." Quatre ducked his head, looking a bit sheepish. "I checked that out a few days ago."

"Really?" Heero raised an eyebrow. "You're interested in wildlife?"

"I'm—looking for some rather specific information," Quatre said with a shrug. "Duo and I went camping the weekend before last, and I heard some animal sounds I couldn't identify."

"What kind of sounds?"

Quatre looked down at his shoes, shifting uncomfortably. "Just some sort of—calls—in the middle of the night. Probably near your place—or at least around the reservoir."

"Calls?"

"I thought it might have been a mountain lion, since Duo swears he's seen one, but from how he described their screams, it wasn't the right sound."

Heero was about to say he'd heard something as well, when he realized Quatre must be talking about Leon's first midnight serenade—a week ago Saturday. His eyes widened, and Quatre hastened to reassure him.

"Don't worry too much about big cats out here. Although occasionally someone claims to have seen one, those stories are few and far between. If they even _are _out there, they're very scattered. I can't imagine why one would come near humans anyway. From everything I've read, they're very secretive and solitary."

"I'm not worried," Heero said quickly, not sure whether to be relieved people might mistake Leon's cries for a wild animal, or nervous that someone had heard them at all. And he didn't want to have to explain to Quatre that there might have been a mountain lion right there in his barnyard, drawn by an African lion's serenade.

He opted for a neutral sort of explanation. "As a matter of fact, I caught of glimpse of something I was hoping to identify. That's why I was looking for the book." He gave Quatre his most innocent look. "But since you say there actually are mountain lions in the area, it might explain it."

"It might." Quatre grinned, thinking that Duo would be delighted that the good-looking Japanese man was interested in wildlife, and not skeptical of the mountain lion rumors. And while he was on the subject, he thought maybe he should do some information gathering for his friend. "So—do you like the outdoors?"

Heero nodded. "I haven't camped out much—not unless summer camp counts. But I run every day."

"Yes, I remember," Quatre purred, mentally checking off things Duo and Heero might have in common. "What other activities do you enjoy?" he asked hopefully.

Heero frowned at the eager gleam in the blue eyes, wondering if the handsome postmaster was interested in _him_. That would be awful. Trowa would be devastated. Or at least royally pissed off.

"Actually, as busy as I've been with looking after Trowa and working on the house, I haven't had time for many other pursuits," he said coolly, hoping to discourage Quatre's interest.

"Oh." Quatre eyed him curiously. "But you must _have _some hobbies?"

This time his inquiry came off as a bit coy, even if it wasn't what he was trying for.

Heero shrugged. "Not really. At least, not around _here_." He decided nipping any potential interest Quatre might have for him in the bud was his best course of action. "Back in Sanc, I went to the gym or out to dinner or a show now and then. There was a lot more to do there." He gave a slightly contemptuous smile—one he'd learned from Wufei back in the day. "It's very—isolated—out here."

"Yes, it is," Quatre conceded. "I'm originally from Sanc myself. But I really like the peaceful atmosphere here."

Heero gave a rather disdainful sniff, again learned from his former lover. "Peaceful? I'd have said 'stagnant.'"

"You—don't like it here?" Quatre hazarded, feeling his hopes plummet at the negative attitude Heero seemed to take.

"I'm only here because of Trowa," Heero said honestly.

"Oh." Quatre wasn't sure how to interpret that statement. Did it mean Heero was Trowa's significant other—or merely a caretaker of some sort? "So will you be going back to Sanc once Trowa's back on his feet?"

Quatre was rather proud of the question, since it should clearly indicate how close the two men were.

But Heero just shrugged noncommittally. "That depends on Trowa."

"I see," Quatre muttered, not seeing at all.

It sounded like Heero hated Smoky Hills, but would stay as long as his roommate—? Friend—? Lover—?

"If you could point me to the historical section—?" Heero went on quickly, seeing the disappointed gleam in the blue eyes. "I thought I'd pick up a basic history of Smoky Hills for Trowa."

"That's—very thoughtful of you," Quatre said with a wan smile. "It's right over there against the wall."

"Thank you." Heero walked quickly away, determined not to encourage Quatre in the least.

And he vowed that the moment Trowa got back, he was going to make the man grab the phone and call Quatre. Perhaps once the blonde knew his brother was interested, he'd drop any notion of being attracted to Heero. And even if he didn't, at that point Heero could come right out and say that he did not reciprocate any feelings, and that Quatre would be better off focusing his attention on Trowa, who did.

"Why is this shit so complicated?" Heero sighed, grabbing the first title he saw that seemed like it would cover the early history of the hill town, and making his escape before he could cross paths with the postmaster again.


	31. Chances

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing, bigotry, some OOC

Pairings: 1X2 eventually, 3X4 also eventually

SMOKY HILLS

_"It rained today...it's rained for a solid week now, since Annabelle's funeral. There has been no word from Jacob; but then I expected none. As I care for little Samuel, I'm reminded of the way I raised Jacob. Granted, he was older when Eliza passed away. But in many ways, I'm finding an infant much easier to care for than a young, fractious boy. I wonder if I'll feel the same by the time Samuel starts walking._

_The dogs seem fascinated by each sound the child makes, and they are constantly beside the crib, standing watch. I suspect that once the boy is older, they'll be his loyal companions, as much as they've been mine. And I'm grateful for the feeling of security they provide, as if I'm less alone in raising the boy…"_

—_excerpt from the private journal of Ephraim Barton_

Chapter Thirty One: Chances

Quatre had been rather subdued since his chance encounter with Heero at the library. He hadn't mentioned it to Duo, because he wasn't sure exactly what to say about it. "Hey, Duo—that guy you like? He's an arrogant asshole," just didn't seem like the right approach.

But Heero had come across that way, at least as far as Quatre was concerned. And between worrying that the Japanese man's aloofness meant he was in a relationship with Trowa, and not wanting to discourage Duo from his newfound resolve to give a potential relationship a chance, even if it _was_ with a snooty city slicker—Quatre had been tied up in knots for two days.

"Hey, Q-bean, you totally spaced on me there, man," Duo muttered, peering around the corner of his sorting case at the preoccupied postmaster.

"Hm?"

"I was telling you a joke, and you didn't even blink at the punch line!" Duo accused, stepping closer and putting his hands on his hips. "What's up with you?"

"Nothing. I just—was concentrating on sorting mail."

Duo arched an eyebrow. "That doesn't explain why you've been staring at that one letter for like, five minutes."

Quatre looked down at the handful of letters he'd been sorting, and quickly put one into the slot in front of him. "There. I had to think about that one. It was an old forwarding, and I was trying to remember if we still had information on file."

"Right," came a skeptical drawl. "I'm supposed to believe Mister Photographic Memory forgot one?" He frowned at his boss. "What's up with you?"

"Nothing," Quatre repeated, scowling back. "I'm not allowed to have an off day?"

"You?" Duo asked in shock. "As a matter of fact, no! You _never _have an off day. You're like the most stable, cheery person I know." His expression shifted to concern. "Y'didn't get bad news from the family or something you're not telling me about, did you?"

"No, Duo," sighed his boss, relaxing a bit, and trying for a soothing tone. "Nothing like that. I'm just—tired, I guess. Lots of mail this week, and those stupid teleconference things—it's just taken a toll."

"Hm, yeah. You _were _on the phone half the day yesterday," Duo noted, cocking his head to one side. "I dunno why they don't get that out here we haven't got time for that shit. Seriously. You've got mail to sort and customers to wait on, and they expect you to do all those reports and stuff. Crazy."

Quatre smiled wanly. "Yeah, it is," he agreed.

"Well, y'know I'm here for you, right?" Duo said helpfully. "Whatever I can do to help."

"I appreciate that."

Quatre went back to sorting, forcibly pulling his thoughts away from the discouraging direction they'd been taking. If Duo felt so strongly about Heero, then maybe there was something there he'd missed. Maybe the man wasn't the jerk he'd come across as the other evening.

The chime over the door jangled, interrupting his musings, and he looked up to see the clerk from another office holding out an express mail bag. "Late express," she explained apologetically. "It came to our office by mistake."

"Thanks." He took the bag from her and opened it to see what was inside.

"Who's it for?" Duo asked with a sigh. He sometimes had to deviate from his usual path to get an express mail package to a customer before the three o'clock cutoff time.

Quatre looked at the address and couldn't help smirking. "Your favorite customer," he teased.

Duo stuck his head around the case again. "You wanna clarify a bit? I've got a lot of favorites; Mrs. Heinz…Mister Chapman…"

"Heero Yuy," Quatre chimed in with the same sing-song tone of voice, even as he scanned the package "arrived in office."

"What?" Duo yelped, hurrying to look over Quatre's shoulder at the fat envelope. "The Forensic Institute of Sanc?" he read from the return address.

"Must be a report on that skeleton," Quatre guessed.

"Wow. That's quick. It's only been, what—a little over a week? How long do lab tests take, anyway?"

"Darned if I know," Quatre said with a shrug. He gave his roommate a sidelong look. "So—do you want to deliver this? Or should I just write up a notice?"

"I'll take it!" Duo snapped quickly. At his boss' knowing smirk, he tried for a casual shrug. "I mean—it's my job to do that, and now that I know Thor, I'm sure he's no threat. So, I don't mind taking an accountable piece of mail up to the house."

"I'm sure you don't." Quatre smiled beatifically at the brunet.

"Stop looking at me like that!" Duo grumbled.

"Like what?"

"I dunno—like my taking a piece of mail to the door _means _something."

"It means you'll have a chance to talk to Heero again," Quatre pointed out, hoping it went better than the last time.

Duo shrugged. "Maybe. If he's there, and not out running with his dogs—or digging up more bodies—." He smirked at his own joke. "I s'pose I could find something to talk about that makes me sound less lame."

"I should hope so," Quatre sniffed. "'Have a nice day,' indeed!"

"Don't remind me," Duo lamented. "I'm gonna do what you and Hilde said this time, and just try to be myself and not get all tongue-tied."

Quatre couldn't help the snicker that escaped, and Duo rolled his eyes. "Get your mind out of the gutter, man. I was _not _thinking anything the least bit suggestive."

"Yes, but now that you _have_," Quatre teased. "I'll bet there's other ways you'd like to get tongue-tied—with him."

"You're bad," Duo said flatly. "Worse than me, even. And that's saying a lot." He plucked the express piece from his boss' hands and picked up a form to fill out for the signature it would need. "Good thing there aren't too many boxholders today. I should make it up to Barton's before three without having to rearrange my whole route."

"Oh, good for you," Quatre said sweetly. "Then there won't be a lot of time pressure, so you'll have plenty of time in that chat with Yuy to _ask him out_."

"Don't push it," Duo muttered. "I'll be happy if I can just get through a whole conversation without sounding like an idiot."

He went back to his case, torn between eagerness to see the handsome Japanese man again, and nervousness about the whole thing. But he figured if he could just stop overreacting, maybe he could at least start a casual friendship. And maybe that would lead to another chance to visit the farmhouse and possibly even an opportunity to figure out if Heero was available. Yeah, _that _was the way to go.

Duo settled back into his normal routine, putting the upcoming meeting to the back of his mind so he could concentrate on his work. And he succeeded, right up to the point where he'd loaded his truck, driven most of his route, and turned onto the road leading up to the Barton farm.

Then the butterflies hit with a vengeance, and Duo swallowed hard to keep from throwing up, reminding himself it was just going to be a friendly visit. He was _not _going to screw it up.

But when he saw Heero waiting by the mailbox as he drove up, his resolve faltered—at least until he noticed the big wolfhound dutifully standing alongside. Seeing the familiar, whiskery face made him smirk, as he recalled the night he'd brought the dog home.

He took a deep breath, reminding himself that all he had to do was relax and be himself, and donned his most winning smile as the Jeep came to a halt.

"Hey, Thor!" he greeted cheerfully, digging in the box of dog biscuits he kept under his seat and tossing a couple to the dog, who deftly caught them out of mid-air. Then Duo turned his attention to Heero. "Where's Balder today?"

"Up at the house," Heero explained. "Since Trowa's away for a couple of days, I like to leave at least one dog there for—security."

"Makes sense." Duo dug out another bone and threw it to Thor. "Bonus for ya, fuzz-face. Don't tell your brother."

Heero frowned at the dog, and then at the letter carrier. "You'll spoil him."

"That's the idea. Keeps him from wanting to gnaw my leg off when I have to get out to deliver an accountable item."

"He's not a vicious dog. I keep telling you—."

Duo smirked back, in his cheekiest mood. "I know you do, Yuy. But when he starts bringing home human skeletons, you've gotta wonder—."

Instead of protesting his dog's temperament, Heero found himself almost fighting back a smile. "So—word seems to have gotten around pretty fast."

"In this shithole, it would," came the rather bitter response.

"Cops aren't supposed to discuss cases with the general public."

"Dream on, Yuy. Dream on." Duo held out the thick envelope. "Got a package for you to sign for. Ya want this one?"

"That's why I'm out here. Chang called to tell me he'd sent an express package, but I wasn't sure you'd bring it up the driveway," Heero said wryly.

Duo ducked his head rather sheepishly. "Yeah, I would've. I'm not worried about being bitten any more."

"Thor doesn't—."

"I wasn't talking about the _dog_," Duo quipped smoothly, giving him an impish smirk.

A faint blush crept up Heero's cheeks, but he wrestled it into submission and mustered a smirk of his own. "I don't bite either."

"But you snap," Duo reminded him, holding out the pink slip and pen. "Can I get a signature and still keep all my fingers?"

"This time," Heero said with a shrug, quickly signing his name and waiting for Duo to scan the package and hand it over.

"From the forensic people, huh?" Duo commented, glancing at the return address as if he hadn't already committed it to memory back at the office. "News about your corpse?"

"Information, hopefully," Heero said carefully. "To help with the identification."

"Probably some hiker or hunter who keeled over out there," Duo speculated, glancing around them at the rugged landscape. "Maybe he had a heart attack, or dropped his gun and shot himself."

"Highly unlikely, considering the skeleton was under a tree."

"Seriously?" Duo asked, eyes sparkling with newfound interest. "Y'think it fell on him?" When Heero didn't immediately answer, Duo went on with his musings. "Kinda weird that no one ever went looking for him, though."

"Maybe no one knew where to look. He was on private property—not public land."

"A poacher!" Duo guessed cheerfully.

Heero rolled his eyes. "There was no sign of a gun, Maxwell."

"No wallet or anything?"

"Nothing. Not even clothing."

Duo's mirth faded a little. "So…somebody got naked in the woods and had a tree fall on 'em?"

"No!" Heero said in exasperation. "Someone was murdered and stuffed under a tree!"

The mailman gaped at him. "Ralph didn't say anything about a murder—."

"Officer Kurt shouldn't have said anything at _all_," Heero said irritably. "To anyone." For that matter, neither should he, Heero reflected, wondering why he was being so chatty with the brash mailman. Maybe it was just the length of time Trowa had been gone, but he couldn't seem to curb his appetite for conversation with Duo.

Aw hell, who was he kidding? He just wanted to keep watching that animated face and listening to Duo's lighthearted banter as long as he could.

"Well, in a small town like this, rumors can't help but spread," Duo shrugged. "And when half the police force is called out to cordon off a section of forest until a big city crime lab crew can get there, it's practically front page news. Folks were bound to find stuff out."

"So exactly what _did _your Officer Kurt say when he was busy shooting off his mouth?"

"He just said your dinosaur bone ended up being human after all, and that your dog dug up the rest of the skeleton and your friends in the city wanted to treat it like a big deal and analyze the remains." Duo's gaze dropped to the fat envelope in Heero's hand. "So, will that tell you what happened?"

Heero shook his head. "Not likely. Just more details to help with a possible identification."

"Shouldn't they have sent it to the cops?"

"I'm sure they got a copy as well. But the lab people agreed to keep me informed, since the body was found on our property," Heero said carefully. "I expect to be told if they manage a positive i.d. as well—though considering the length of time it must have been out there, it'll be hit and miss."

"Sounds more like a needle in a haystack," Duo pointed out. "I mean, if no one's missed the person—."

The Japanese man's head jerked up, and his gaze intensified. "Good idea," he said without thinking. "Missing persons reports would be the perfect place to start."

Duo snorted. "Yeah. Good luck with that. The person could be missing from _anywhere_. What if it was someone just passing through?" His brain was kicking into gear by then, and he was beginning to not like where his thoughts were going. "Shit! You think the killer's someone local?"

"There's nothing to indicate that," Heero assured him. "For all we know, the victim could have been abducted far away from here, murdered, and then brought out here to hide." He wasn't happy with that scenario, even as he outlined it. In his mind, the location of the body suggested an impromptu burial in a spot someone knew was secluded, which did indeed suggest a local connection. But there was no point in alarming Duo by saying so.

"How would someone from 'far away' have known where to hide a body?" Duo wondered, way too perceptively for Heero's comfort.

"I don't know," Heero replied noncommittally. "In all honesty, we don't even know for sure there was a murder."

"But you said—."

"I shouldn't have!" Heero blurted. "Any more than Ralph should've shot his mouth off about the find in the first place. At this point in time, all we really know is it's pretty suspicious that a body ended up out there in the middle of nowhere, hidden under a tree. It's technically called a 'suspicious death,' rather than a murder—at least until Chang finds a definite cause."

"Chang?"

"The forensics expert at the Institute."

"Oh yeah. Ralph said you know him."

Heero rolled his eyes. "Does that man repeat every word ever said to him?"

Duo smirked back. "Pretty much. You want a rumor spread around town, you just spill it to Ralph, and it's a done deal."

"That's pathetic."

"Welcome to Smoky Hills." Duo leaned an arm on the door of the Jeep, resting his chin on his hand. "So did you work in the forensic lab, too? You know a lot about this kind of stuff."

Heero thought back to Hilde's comments about Duo and the local cops, and decided he wasn't ready to reveal his former occupation. "I wasn't part of the lab, but I had the privilege of working with Chang a few times. He's a brilliant man."

"He'd have to be, if he can make sense of a bunch of scattered bones," Duo pointed out. "That's gotta be a tough job."

"Very." Heero swallowed and licked his lips, trying to find a way to transition the conversation to a point where he could casually ask Duo if he wanted to go somewhere for coffee. But then Duo smiled at him, and all his carefully-ordered thoughts fled.

"As much fun as it is talking to you," Duo said, his tone both teasing and sincere. "I should get moving again. Got a few more deliveries, and I've gotta make it back before the truck that takes the mail into the city."

"Oh, of course," Heero said quickly. "I'm sorry to keep you—."

Duo's smile widened as he thought how very much he'd like Heero to keep him. "'S okay," he said softly. "Like I said, it's been fun. Kinda nice meeting people who aren't like Trant or Otto, y'know." In his own, subtle way, he seemed to be thanking Heero for not being homophobic.

Heero managed to smile in return. "I agree." He mustered a smidgeon of courage then. "I'll see you again—?"

"Count on it," Duo said, hoping he wasn't pushing his luck as he gave a cheeky wink and put the Jeep into gear. "Bye 'Ro—Thor."

Heero stared after the Jeep for a long moment, letting himself enjoy the warm flush that Duo's wink and farewell had left him with. He'd called him "'Ro," which was a nickname no one but Trowa had ever used. It sounded almost intimate, the way it rolled off Duo's lips, and the Japanese man groaned quietly, closing his eyes.

"Damn it, Thor. Trowa was right. I'm totally hooked, aren't I?"

A wet nose nudged his hand, and he looked down into the liquid brown eyes, catching an anxious look from his constant companion. "You too?"

Thor licked his fingers, reminding Heero he was still clutching the envelope from Wufei, and he adjusted his grip, turning and heading up to the house to look over the contents. At the very least, it might help distract him from daydreaming about a pair of indigo eyes for a few hours.

* * *

Duo couldn't stop grinning the whole way back to the post office, elated by the fact that he'd coaxed both a smirk and a genuine smile out of Heero Yuy. They'd actually joked around a bit—both of them.

It had felt great, being able to study that face and watch the play of emotions in the stormy blue eyes. Duo could easily imagine spending a lot more time at the pleasant occupation, because when Heero Yuy smiled, he was downright gorgeous. And when he loosened up enough to tease a bit, he was excellent company.

"Don't get your hopes too high," Duo told himself, despite his inability to curb his smile. "Just friends," he reminded himself. "For now—just friends."

Quatre knew before Duo had even put the stack of trays down on the counter that things had gone well. He could tell by the bounce in Duo's step and the faint humming of a tune that his friend was in an excellent mood.

"I take it you had no problem delivering the express mail?" he asked, walking back to take the outgoing tray from his employee.

"None at all. Yuy was expecting it, since his buddy at the forensic office called ahead. He met me at the road."

"Met you? How could he have known what time you'd show up?" Quatre wondered.

Duo blinked in surprise. "I—don't know. Maybe because it was guaranteed before three in the afternoon?"

"Yes, but that's a pretty vague timetable. What did he do—stand there all afternoon?"

"Beats me. But when I pulled up, he was walking the dog—made a crack about how he wasn't sure I'd come to the house, because of that time Thor was loose."

"Was he serious?"

"No—that's the thing," Duo said cheerfully. "He was kidding around. We joked about Thor bringing home skeletons, and then we talked about that a little. Did you know they found the bones under a tree? 'Ro said someone was murdered and stuffed there."

"Murdered? Really?"

"Well—he said it wasn't for sure yet. But he seemed to think that's what happened."

"Hey—when did he become ''Ro?'" Quatre asked suddenly, his blue eyes narrowing.

Duo blushed and turned away, using the excuse of putting aside his empty trays. "Seemed like a good nickname," he shrugged. "He didn't seem to mind it."

Quatre chuckled warmly, glad that things seemed to be looking up for Duo. "So—Mister Yuy apparently hung around the mailbox waiting for you the better part of the afternoon, talked to you for what sounds like quite a while, and was okay with you calling him by a pet name, hm? Sounds like you did better than 'have a nice day' this time."

"Yeah, I guess I did," Duo admitted, suddenly recalling the "I'll see you again" near the end of their conversation. Heero had sounded almost eager. "I should've asked for a time and place," he muttered with a fleeting frown.

"What?"

"Oh—he said something along the lines of 'see you again,'" he explained. "Just thinking I should've asked him when and where." He shook his head. "Damn, I'm slow! Why do I always come up with the good lines _after _the fact?"

"Don't sweat it," Quatre urged. "Obviously you'll run into him again. And when you do, you've got the perfect opening to ask him out." He sighed a bit wistfully. "Too bad I don't have that with Trowa."

"Sure you do. The journals," Duo pointed out. "Call up and volunteer to help him fix the damaged ones."

"I can't just call out of the blue," Quatre demurred.

"Sure you can. Or would you like me to stick a piece of paper in the mailbox with your number on it and a note that you'll be happy to look at his etchings—I mean _journals_?" Duo winked teasingly at his boss' blush.

"Please, don't," Quatre said flatly. "I'll figure out my own way to approach him—when I'm damned good and ready. Okay?"

"Fair enough," Duo conceded. "You've got some time to work up the nerve anyway. 'Ro said Trowa's away for a couple of days."

"He is?" Quatre asked, looking a bit crestfallen.

"Don't sweat it; I'm sure it's nothing bad, or Heero wouldn't have sounded so calm about it. Maybe Tro's checking in with his surgeon or something." Duo gave a convincing leer. "He could be getting the go-ahead for sex, now that his knee's better."

"Duo!" Quatre blushed in spite of himself, since his mind had been heading down more or less the same road.

His roommate just grinned wickedly, still in way too good a mood to settle down. "Hey, since I'm all done for the day, how 'bout I go home and make us something special for dinner? To celebrate that I got through a conversation without shoving my foot in my mouth."

Quatre laughed. "Sounds good. See you at home later!" He grinned at his roommate's disappearing back, as Duo strode out the back door still humming. Things were definitely looking up.

And when the last hour of the day sped by with few customers, giving him ample time to catch up on paperwork and the mail dispatch, they were better still. At least, they were until the odd phone call.

Quatre answered in the usual manner, with the name of the office, his name, and a polite "How may I help you?"

A soft female voice responded. "I'm looking for some address information."

"What sort of information?"

"I need to know where Heero Yuy lives."

Quatre hesitated, and the girl hurried on.

"You see, I know he's in Smoky Hills, but I don't know the street address."

"I'm—sorry," Quatre said with a puzzled frown. "We can't give out the addresses of our residents."

"What do you mean, you can't? That's ridiculous. You're a post office!"

"Yes, but we don't divulge information about our patrons. That's confidential."

"Well then, how am I supposed to get his address?" came a more petulant query. "He's not in the phone book, and the town hall said there was no property listing for anyone by that name. I know you deliver his mail, so you've just _got _to know where he lives."

"Even if we do, we can't give out that information."

"But I need it!" she said with a frustrated huff.

"You'll just have to send a letter to his last known address and trust that it will be forwarded to the one in Smoky Hills," Quatre replied diplomatically.

"I've already done that," she grumbled. "In fact, I've sent several that were addressed to Smoky Hills, and they came back refused."

Quatre's eyes widened as he realized he must be talking to the R. Darlian who'd sent the letters Trowa brought in to be returned. "I'm sorry about that," he said carefully. "Perhaps the individual doesn't wish to be contacted. I'm afraid I can't be of much help in that case."

He could almost hear the simmering frustration on the other end of the phone. And when the woman spoke again, her tone was a bit coy. "It's very important that I _do _reach him, whether he wishes it or not. You see, I work in the permit office in Sanc, and Mister Yuy has put in some applications I need to discuss with him. But he left out his contact information, and I'm having trouble locating him."

Quatre barely refrained from a skeptical snort, thinking it highly unlikely that someone applying for a permit would leave out such vital details. And even if he had, when he got letters from R. Darlian, he'd certainly have accepted them, if she actually was from the permit office. More likely, Quatre thought, she knew someone in that office and had been prying where she had no business.

"I'm terribly sorry," Quatre said unsympathetically. "I really can't divulge any personal address information, except to an officer of the Postal Inspection Service conducting a duly authorized investigation. It's a matter of privacy, ma'am. And protecting our customers has made the Postal Service one of the most trusted agencies in existence." He gave a chilly smile that he knew carried into his voice. "Good day to you."

She hung up even before he did, and he couldn't help a satisfied smirk. More than one person had tried to wheedle private information out of him before, and he'd yet to give in to threats, persuasion, or any attempts at coercion. He took his duties as a Postmaster very seriously.

But he couldn't help wondering what the persistent woman was after.


	32. Too Much Information

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing, bigotry, some OOC

Pairings: 1X2 eventually, 3X4 also eventually

A/N: Sorry for the delay. December is pure Hell at the post office, and I've been just exhausted and spent. But this is an extra-long chapter, and I expect to have the next ready quite soon. Maybe even this weekend, if I get some time to myself. Here's hoping!

SMOKY HILLS

"_As I feared, young Samuel is quickly becoming as challenging to raise as his father was. Quiet as he was in his early days, he's rapidly becoming a lively and vocal baby. The dogs are still his loyal guardians, and I am, of course, his doting grandfather. But I wonder what I will tell him about his parents when he's old enough to ask questions. And I wonder what gossip he'll hear around town, as I've already caught wind of it myself—those who suggest that Annabelle only 'settled' for Jacob because her true love, Aaron, died…"_

—_excerpt from the private journal of Ephraim Barton_

Chapter Thirty Two: Too Much Information

Heero spent most of his evening reading Chang's preliminary report on the skeleton.

The forensic scientist hadn't finalized a cause of death, though head trauma seemed the most obvious. His team was still examining each bone to see if there were marks indicating contact by a weapon, or even animal teeth. Until they were completely finished with their tests, his people wouldn't limit their conclusions.

They did, however, determine that the person was male, around eighteen to twenty-five years of age, and Caucasian. The time of death they'd narrowed down to about five to ten years ago, meaning there was no way it was a tax man bludgeoned to death by Trowa's great-grandfather. That didn't put Dekim, his grandfather, out of the running—but judging by what he knew of the family history, Heero doubted the most recent Barton resident had any reason to murder an intruder.

Which meant that the field of suspects was wide open.

"Shit." Heero leafed back through the pages to look at the pictures of the skeleton again. "If he weighed at least one-fifty, and was carried or dragged that far from the road—assuming no wheeled vehicle could have made the trip—." He shook his head. The body might conceivably have been hauled to its final resting place by a single person—if they used a sled or slid a tarp along the ground. Otherwise, it would have taken two people or an enormously strong one.

"God, Thor," Heero sighed, dropping a hand to pet his ever-present companion. "Would've been so much easier when the clues were fresh. Was it dropped in summer or winter? There might have been tracks in the snow, or even in dirt. Leaves might have been disturbed by something dragged along. But this—? What a dead end."

He shook his head, pushing aside the paperwork and resigning himself to the fact that it might be such a cold case that it would be unsolvable.

"Missing persons," he said quietly. "It'll all depend on that. I could turn up another dead end, or a lucky break, hm?"

Thor nudged him with a whiskery muzzle, and Balder bracketed him on the other side, licking his wrist.

"Time to go out, fellas?"

The dogs eagerly jumped up to accompany him on his nightly rounds, and it made it a point to walk them out around the back of the barn, hoping their canine scent might discourage any feline visitors—large or small.

By the time they went back inside, a light rain had begun to fall, reminding Heero how glad he was he'd taken care of the roof repairs early on in their occupation of the farm. There was no need for him to worry in the least about either Leon's snug home, or his and Trowa's.

He found himself smiling as he headed for his bedroom, realizing that despite how carefully he'd kept calling the place Trowa's, since it had in fact, been a Barton inheritance, rather than Yuy, he still was beginning to consider it his home, too. And he knew damned well his half-brother would insist it was, if he ever brought the subject up.

He fell asleep to the restful patter of rain on the roof, and slept soundly and dreamlessly for a change.

When he woke in the morning, however, all he felt was determination. He was going to visit the local police and see if they'd also received Chang's report and if they had so much as a clue to proceed with.

He went through his morning routine in record time, taking the dogs for an abbreviated run, since it was still drizzling steadily, and by mid-morning, he was driving down the winding driveway towards town.

As he passed the post office, he automatically looked for the red Jeep, and found himself smiling when he saw it. Maybe after stopping by the police station, he could buy stamps or something—anything to catch a glimpse of Duo—and possibly work up to asking him out.

He sighed, a bit frustrated by his own cowardice when it came to Duo. He'd never had problems asking for a date in the past. But then, that was before his lover had dumped him during the worst emotional crisis of his life. So perhaps he could be forgiven a bit of hesitation; at least for now.

Heaven help him when Trowa got back though.

Heero pulled into the police complex, and parked in the tiny lot, squaring his shoulders as he got out and casually strolled into the building.

He had a moment of dejá vue at the sight of Officer Kurt sitting at the receptionist desk, a ball game on the television, and some half-done paperwork in front of him. "Good morning."

Ralph looked up and a brief scowl crossed his face. "This better not be about that skeleton," he said peremptorily. "We just got the report from the Institute yesterday."

"I know. Chang sent me a copy as well," Heero admitted. "I was just thinking that since he was able to pin down a few facts, you might have had a chance to compare them against missing persons cases."

"Missing persons?" Ralph asked, looking baffled. "D'you understand that the crime rate here in Smoky Hills is next to nil, Mister Yuy?"

"I gathered as much from the lack of police presence," Heero said dryly.

Ralph glared, opening his mouth to retort, but Heero cut him off. "I just meant that there's no need for a patrol car on every street or a cop on every corner. It's obviously a quiet town. But that means it shouldn't be hard to look up any missing persons reports from the last ten or so years."

"For what?"

"Chang sent you the age and sex of the victim and narrowed down the time of death to a fairly slender margin of time. Don't you think it's worth seeing if anyone went missing around then?"

Muttering to himself, Ralph yanked open a file drawer and began digging through folders dated by year. It looked like there might be fifty years' worth of folders, and yet they didn't even fill up the drawer.

The officer pulled out the latest fifteen years and plopped them onto his desk. "You wanna look through them, go the hell ahead," he suggested.

Heero raised an eyebrow. "I'm a civilian," he said carefully.

"And the only one who's interested in ten-year-old corpses," came the sour response. "You wanna waste your time looking through domestic disturbances and the occasional trespassing or assault—go right ahead. But we ain't never had a murder in this town, and you won't find anyone missing, neither. Your skeleton came from somewhere else—the same as your killer."

Heero grabbed the folders, letting out a breath of frustration, and took them to the counter, laying them out year by year. At least they were thin enough files that he might actually get through them sometime that afternoon, since he doubted the obnoxious cop would let him take them home, or stay past normal office hours.

Chang had said the bones had been under the tree around five to nine years, so Heero started with the newest time frame and began working backwards.

As the officer had said, most of the reports were for petty crimes like trespassing or shoplifting, with a few more serious ones thrown in here and there—an occasional burglary or bar fight that resulted in assault charges being filed.

The name Duo Maxwell drew Heero's gaze to a report of a drunk and disorderly arrest—something about destroying public property. But it was a juvenile arrest, which meant it had probably been resolved with community service or probation, so he didn't end up with a record.

"Hothead," mumbled the Japanese man, smirking in spite of himself.

About half an hour later and a couple of years further back, he finally stumbled across a missing persons report.

"Thought you said no one ever went missing," he growled at Ralph, pulling out the pages and holding them up. "What about—Solo Stevens?"

The cop looked up and snorted derisively. "He didn't go missing," he said without hesitation. "He left town. And his dumbass boyfriend went ballistic about it and filed a report."

"Boyfriend?"

Ralph's lip curled in distaste. "Yeah, boyfriend. He was a freakin' fag, Mister Yuy. A goddamn stain on the town. And no one ever missed him except the other resident fag, Maxwell."

"Maxwell?" Heero's eyes shot back to the page, and he read the name of the person who'd filled out the complaint—Duo Maxwell.

"Yeah, your mailman's a flaming homo," elaborated the officer. "And I'm not so sure about that Winner guy either, any more. I mean, half the gals in town have asked him out, and he turned every one of 'em down."

"That's beside the point," Heero said curtly, waving the pages at Ralph. "You've got a report dating back almost eight years, which is squarely within Chang's time frame. The missing person was male and eighteen—and you know damned well that the lab confirmed a male victim between fifteen and twenty-five years of age." He slapped the papers down on the desk. "You need to check with local dentists for possible records that might help rule this 'Solo' guy out—or maybe provide positive identification."

"You gotta be shittin' me! Solo skipped town. It's simple as that. An' you expect me to waste time seeing if the dentist in town still has his files?"

"Yes."

Ralph rolled his eyes, looking frustrated beyond belief. "I'm tellin' ya—even if Doc Schbeiker has the old records, they won't match up. Solo ain't dead. He _left_. And while we're on the subject of that lowlife hoodlum, it'd be more likely that he was the killer than the victim. Probably iced some bum from the railroad yard and then took off so he wouldn't get caught."

"Caught by _this _police department?" Heero scoffed, though his analytical mind had to acknowledge the possibility of Solo's being the murderer instead of the victim, disturbing as it might be.

"Okay—you're out of line!" Ralph growled, grabbing the missing persons report out of Heero's hands and slamming it down on the desk. "If there'd been a crime, we'd have investigated it. But even _you've _gotta admit there's no proof of anything here. We don't even know that the skeleton was someone from around here."

"But checking Stevens' dental records might prove it _was_."

"An' it might prove it wasn't."

"Exactly." Heero smiled triumphantly, when he saw the defeated look on Ralph's face. "So, if you're keen on proving me wrong, how 'bout you check it out?"

"I will," came a defiant retort, as Ralph slid the papers next to the phone. "I'll give Doc Schbeiker a call right now, and have him look through his records. Be able to prove you wrong by supper time!"

"Really?" Heero asked sarcastically. "You have a way to get the records to Chang that quickly for a comparison?"

"Hey—we've got a fax machine. You may think we're just bunch of hicks, but we're not all _that _far behind the times. Might not have the answer today, if your precious Doctor Chang don't get back to us—but when he does, you'll see I was right all along. Solo Stevens walked away from Smoky Hills under his own power."

Heero gave a shrug, pleased that his lead would be followed through on, though he was a lot less pleased at the sudden connection to Duo. "If I were you, I'd keep this pretty quiet until you have results—no need to go alarming people or tipping off a potential killer—."

"You can leave now," Ralph grumbled, as he was reaching for the phone. "I'll call you with the results, Mister Yuy, since this _is _a police matter, after all. You've cluttered up my office long enough."

"Pardon me," Heero said unrepentantly. "And when I turn out to be right, don't bother to thank me for doing your job for you."

"I won't."

Heero's annoyance with Ralph was far overshadowed by his smugness at forcing the man to actually work a case, and he left the office with a smirk on his face.

It faded, of course, once he was in his car and headed back home, and a sick feeling of dread settled in the pit of his stomach as he thought about how likely it was that the victim would be identified as Duo's former boyfriend—and how much of a shock it would be to the braided man.

He recalled their lighthearted chat at the mailbox, and Duo's casual and irreverent attitude about the skeleton.

"Damn, he's not gonna know what hit him," Heero sighed to himself.

He almost hoped they'd find out the skeleton _wasn't_ Solo, though it would open up a whole new avenue of possibilities with him as the perpetrator instead of the victim. Heero didn't think Duo would like that scenario any better. Either way, the braided man was in for some heartache.

Despite the slim possibility of error, Heero was already convinced the dental records would positively identify the skeleton as that of Solo Stevens. No matter how much Ralph Kurt insisted the guy had just run off one day, in his gut Heero knew better.

Hell—one look at Duo was enough to convince him no one could have walked away without so much as a goodbye. And according to Duo's missing persons report, Solo and he had talked about leaving together; it made no sense for Stevens to have gone alone, despite notes from the investigating officer saying he'd obviously done just that.

It was pretty apparent that the cops had talked to a couple of Solo's friends or co-workers and concluded he wanted out of town badly enough to leave his under age boyfriend behind. Heero wondered how long it took them to reach their abrupt conclusion—one hour, or two?

God—Duo was in for a hell of a shock, if the remains turned out to be Solo's. Heero almost groaned at the thought of that brilliant smile dimmed by grief. It wasn't something he looked forward to, and he wished, not for the first time, that Thor had never brought that first bone home.

"Ignorance _is _bliss," he muttered to himself as he was passing the post office, and the familiar red Jeep parked behind it. "I can always hope I'm wrong—on _all _counts."

The remainder of the drive passed quickly, and when he pulled up by the house to find Catherine's car parked there he felt a rush of relief. He wanted nothing more than to hurry into the house and blurt the whole story out to Trowa.

But of course, with Catherine there, it would have to wait.

The door opened as he walked up the path, and Thor and Balder bounded out to greet him.

"Where ya been?" Trowa asked, stepping out behind them, but staying up on the porch out of the rain. "These two just about bowled me over when I walked in. Acted like they'd been alone forever!"

"Yes, I was gone a whole hour or two," Heero said dryly. He noticed the two dogs ran back up to Trowa, demanding more attention. "I think it was _you _they were missing."

"Aw, sweet," Trowa teased, fondling the shaggy heads. "How 'bout you? Did you miss me much?"

"Hardly noticed you were gone," Heero said with a smirk as he passed by. "Where's Catherine?"

"Right here," came the girl's voice as she stepped out of the kitchen with a mixing bowl in her arms. "Whipping up a decent meal for you two."

Heero gave Trowa a disapproving look. "You're making her cook? Isn't she a guest?"

"She wanted to!" Trowa defended himself. "She seems to think men are useless in the kitchen."

"Really? Then how does she explain the fact that you and I are both alive after months on our own?"

"Take-out," she called cheerily, heading back into the kitchen after bestowing a quick kiss to Heero's cheek.

"I dare you to find a single take-out container in that refrigerator!" Heero shot back with a glare she wasn't there to see.

"Just because you know how to dispose of the evidence—."

Heero looked at Trowa. "How long is she staying?"

"Just for dinner," Trowa answered with a grin. "You won't have to snipe for very long."

"She's driving all the way back to Sanc tonight?" Heero's sense of chivalry kicked in then. "You and I could double up and give her my room if she'd rather go in the morning—."

"Naw. She's got some hot weight-lifter guy on the hook, and he expects her back tonight."

Heero frowned slightly. "You check him out?"

Trowa's smile turned warmer. "'Course I did. He's okay. Nice fellow. And I told him if he didn't treat her right, I know a place where we could bury his body and no one would ever find it."

"Thor could," Heero pointed out, heading into the kitchen to see if Catherine needed help with anything.

Trowa's laughter followed behind him. "Goin' upstairs for a shower, Yuy. See you two at dinner."

Heero grunted acknowledgment as he turned the corner. "What can I do to help, Cathy?"

She looked up from her work and jerked her head towards the refrigerator. "Dig out the chicken breast and start chopping it into half-inch pieces, would you?"

Heero kept himself occupied with the simple tasks she gave, though his mind kept drifting back to what he'd learned at the police station, and how much he wanted to share that knowledge with Trowa—to see what his brother thought he should do about it.

Distracted as he was, it seemed a short time before they were sitting down to eat.

Trowa wandered in at the last possible minute, freshly showered and dressed in comfortable sweats. "Hey, you never even asked about Sandy," he pointed out, sliding into the chair across from Heero and reaching for the casserole dish.

Heero looked up from his contemplation of the jumble of noodles, chicken and sauce on his plate. "What's to ask?" he managed in a teasing tone. "You're bringing home another stray."

"—says the man with two wolfhounds and a parrot," Trowa riposted, grinning.

"Yes, but my strays don't have the potential to eat people."

"Naw, they just bring home the remains." Trowa gave a victorious smirk. "Speaking of which—."

Heero cut in swiftly, before his brother could ask the obvious question. "So tell me about Sandy," he demanded. "You mentioned an amputation; can she walk okay, or will she need special flooring or ongoing vet care?"

Trowa happily launched into a description of the big cat, right down to the crooked whiskers on one side of her face, and the way she purred when her ears were scratched.

"She lets you that close?" Heero wondered, glancing over his roommate for signs of scratches or mauling.

"She's a pussycat," Trowa said warmly. "Hand-raised and apparently unaware that she's supposed to be Queen of the Jungle."

"Good. One cranky lion is enough." Heero absently rubbed the healing scratch on his arm. "Hey—speaking of that, I think we had a feline visitor out here," he mentioned.

Trowa raised an eyebrow.

"I think a mountain lion left tracks around the back of the barn earlier this week."

"No shit?"

Heero quirked a smile. "No shit—just tracks."

"Har har," drawled the auburn-haired man. "I meant to ask if you were serious, as you well know. So tell me—what did the tracks look like?"

"I made a sketch of one," Heero told him, getting up and retrieving the paper he'd copied the tracks onto. "Actual size," he added, as he laid it down next to Trowa's plate.

"Wow!" Catherine leaned closer, spreading her hand across the track for a size comparison. "That's a big cat all right, though I'd guess at a female or younger male."

Heero looked skeptically at her. "You can tell that much from a track?"

"Actually, yes. Adult males are noticeably larger than females, including their tracks."

"You said it was near the barn?" Trowa asked.

"Yes. It woke me in the middle of the night with a downright blood-curdling shriek." Heero smiled wanly. "Could've given Zero a run for his money. I went out and looked around—turned on lights and made enough noise to chase it off, I think. The next morning, I poked around the area where I thought I saw something, and found those tracks."

Trowa glanced at the window and the still-falling rain. "I suppose they're gone by now."

"That's why I took the time to trace one."

"Well, it'll probably come back around, if it's attracted by Leon's scent," Catherine pointed out. "You may get a first-hand look at it."

"I'd rather not," Heero said decisively. "I prefer my lions in cages, thank you very much."

"Perhaps you should report the sighting," the girl added. "I mean, they can't be very common around here—."

"They aren't," Heero agreed. "From all I've heard, it's actually a hotly-debated topic whether they actually live in the state or not. But I have no intention of telling anyone a wild mountain lion came to visit our illegal African lion."

"Good point," Catherine conceded.

"Well, hopefully Sandy's arrival will settle Leon down," Trowa spoke up. "And if he stops calling, maybe your nocturnal visitor will drift away."

"I hope so. I hadn't even considered native species as a potential complication," Heero sighed.

"We'll have to take that into consideration," his brother agreed. "Smaller species won't be an issue; but bears, moose and mountain lions are formidable creatures. Our caging will need to exclude them as well as keep in our livestock—especially if we end up with prey animals, like zebra."

Heero raised an eyebrow. "Is there something I should know, Barton? Are you planning to adopt a zebra next?"

"No! I'm just thinking ahead," Trowa hastened to assure him.

"Hn," grunted the Japanese man. "Your thinking has a tendency to take a turn into action."

Catherine laughed at Trowa's sheepish look, and Heero's dark scowl. "Well, boys, as much fun as it's been, I think maybe I'll head out before you get into the discussion I see looming on the horizon."

"No discussion—," Trowa protested.

"Says you." She started gathering the dishes, heading for the sink.

"Leave those," Heero commanded. "You cooked. We'll clean." He stood up and carried the casserole dish over to the counter. "Besides, I hear you've got a hot body-builder waiting back at the circus. Wouldn't want to keep you from your fun."

She gave him a good-natured smack on the arm. "My fun's none of your business, Yuy," she chided. "But I'll tell Sven you said 'hi.'"

"Sven?" he asked with a smirk. "You mean there are actually guys out there named Sven?"

She narrowed her eyes dangerously, though they glimmered with mirth. "Yes, and my guy is one of them. No wisecracks—_Heero_. It's not like your name is any less unusual."

"True," he conceded.

"I'm staying out of this," Trowa threw in with a shrug. "Catherine's got the only 'normal' name among us."

By the time they'd cleared the table, Catherine had visited the powder room and was ready to leave, giving them both hugs and kisses on her way out, and promising to remind Sven she was an expert with throwing knives, if he ever thought of breaking her heart.

Heero grinned at her departing back, and then turned to his brother. "I like that girl. No pushover."

Trowa gave him a gentle punch to the arm. "Too bad she's not the right sex for you, eh? Speaking of which, how's the hot mailman? Any progress on that front?"

"We had a pleasant conversation at the mailbox yesterday," Heero said, his expression sobering as he recalled the catalyst for their encounter, in the form of Chang's report.

"You don't look as thrilled as I'd expect, for a man with a date lined up."

Heero's frown morphed into a scowl. "We didn't get quite that far. But he said he enjoyed talking to me, and he'd see me again soon."

"Ugh," Trowa grunted, heading back for the kitchen. "He's as chicken shit as you are. I may have to kick _his _ass, too."

Heero followed along, heading for the sink to start cleaning off dishes.

"Want tea?" Trowa asked, reaching for the canister on the counter. "I'm making some for me."

"Sure."

Heero busied himself with the mundane chore of dish washing, his mind returning to the somber news he'd acquired that afternoon. By the time Trowa had finished brewing their tea and brought it over to the table, he was done with the work, and ready to join him.

"Okay, brother. Spill," Trowa said curtly, eyeing Heero over his mug as he approached.

"Hm?"

"You've been somewhere else all evening. What's up?"

Heero sat down, running a hand across his face. "You started to ask earlier, but I didn't want to discuss it in front of Catherine. I got news from Wufei yesterday, via express mail."

"Uh-huh." Trowa studied his face. "Hence the chat with Duo, I suppose. What's got you so rattled—and I'm guessing it's _not _the prospect of some day growing a set and asking Duo out. Something in that report—?"

"Kind of." Heero shrugged. "The lab had age, height, weight, sex and had narrowed the time of death down to between five and ten years ago. Duo said something at the mailbox about how he'd have thought the person would've been missed. So today I went to the police in town and asked if they'd had any missing persons cases that might provide a lead." He sighed, closing his eyes and rubbing at them. "Officer Kurt couldn't be bothered looking, but he let me."

Trowa watched his brother's face tighten. "You found something?"

"Almost eight years ago a young man named Solo Stevens went missing. The cops insisted he took off on his own, but his _boyfriend _filed a missing persons report anyway."

"Oh, shit," Trowa began, jumping ahead. "Don't tell me—. Duo was the boyfriend?"

Heero nodded.

"Holy shit!" Trowa numbly set his cup down before his suddenly-unsteady hand dropped it. "Do you think it's him? The skeleton, I mean."

"It fits the age, sex and height," Heero said with a raspy catch to his voice. "The timing would be right, too."

"Holy fucking shit!" Trowa blurted, pushing back from the table.

"Yeah," Heero agreed weakly.

"Does Duo know?"

"No. No one does," Heero said quickly. "I told Officer Kurt to keep his big mouth shut about it until he can get his hands on Stevens' dental records, if there are any, and fax them over to Chang."

"There's a fax machine in Smoky Hills?" Trowa quipped.

"Probably _only _one," came the snide response.

"So—when will you know something for sure?"

"That depends. If it turns out the skeleton isn't Stevens, Kurt will be dying to tell me I was wrong. Otherwise, I'll probably have to wait until Chang contacts me."

"But you're ten times the cop any of these hicks could ever hope to be!" Trowa protested. "You should be leading the investigation."

"I already explained my reasons for holding back."

"Yes, but that was before you knew Duo might be involved."

"If anything, that makes it even more imperative that I stay out of it." He gave a frustrated sigh. "I nudged the Smoky Hills cops in the right direction. I'm going to give them a chance to follow through."

"And if they don't—?"

Heero shook his head. "They will—if only to spite me. Officer Kurt was pretty irritated at my suggestion they contact a local dentist to see if there were any records. He'll at least get that much done, hoping to be able to say he told me so when they don't match the remains."

Trowa looked uneasily at him. "What do you think the odds are?"

Heero grimaced. "C'mon, Tro'. The age, sex, timing—all fit. And he was a gay guy in a town full of intolerant jackasses."

"So you think he was murdered?"

"Chang hasn't confirmed a cause of death—so there's an outside chance it was some sort of bizarre accident."

"What about an animal attack? Cougars have been known to go after humans. And they bury their kills to conceal them from scavengers."

"Yes, but do they strip them and bury them neatly, without taking parts away for consumption?"

"Hm. Probably not," Trowa conceded. "I mean, you could explain the naked part if the guy was skinny-dipping in the reservoir or something—but that wouldn't account for the skeleton being as intact as it was."

"Exactly. Whatever happened to that victim, it involved another human. I'd bet my badge on that."

Trowa looked searchingly at his brother. "Are you going to tell Duo?"

Heero snorted. "Probably won't have to. The way the local cops spread gossip, he might hear the results of the dental records comparison before I do."

"You should warn him," Trowa suggested. "It doesn't sound like the Smoky Hills police are very tactful. And if Stevens was his boyfriend, the news might be easier to take coming from someone who gives a shit."

Heero hesitated, recalling Officer Kurt's scornful description of Duo as the other "resident fag," as well as his suggestion that Solo was the killer rather than the victim. He shook his head. "I can't, Trowa. At least—not until the results come back. Kurt brought up a valid point that if the skeleton's not Solo Stevens, and his disappearance coincides with the time of death, we'd have to consider him a suspect."

"Fucking hell," Trowa muttered. "Either Duo's boyfriend's dead, or he's the prime suspect in a murder? There's just no way to sugar coat that."

"No, there's not. I don't think Duo would take accusations against his boyfriend much better than he would the news of his death, though I'd almost prefer that scenario." He looked at Trowa with haunted eyes. "I've had to tell a lot of people a loved one was dead. I'm not putting Duo through that until I'm sure it's necessary."

Trowa smirked slightly. "You've got it bad for the kid, don't you?"

Heero shrugged. "Maybe. I just know that yesterday at the mailbox he was so happy—so full of life. He's got an amazing smile, y'know. And I won't take that away without good reason."

"Then you better call Chang and tell him to give you a heads up on the dental records, so the local cops don't dump them on Duo out of the blue."

"Yeah, I'll do that," Heero promised. Then a faintly amused gleam entered his eyes. "Speaking of phone calls—don't you have one to make?"

"Me?"

"To a certain blonde postmaster?" Heero pressed, gesturing to the phone. "He should still be at the office."

"Now?" Trowa yelped, panic entering his eyes.

"I'd appreciate it," Heero said blandly. "I ran into him at the library when I was looking for information about mountain lions, and he was very friendly. I'd like you to make your interest clear to him before he does something stupid like ask _me _out.

Trowa's eyes widened comically. "You? He's interested in _you_?"

"You say that as if there's nothing to like about me," came a droll reply.

"I didn't mean it that way," Trowa babbled uneasily. "I just meant that I thought that day at the post office he and I hit it off so well. And now you're saying he came on to you—?"

"He didn't 'come on' to me. But he asked about my hobbies and interests, and I wasn't completely comfortable with his level of curiosity." Heero picked up the receiver and held it out. "Call him. Or I'll call him _for _you."

Trowa took the handset, swallowing hard.

"The number's right there," Heero added helpfully, pointing to a scrap of paper on the phone stand.

"I know that," Trowa growled. "D'you think you could give me some privacy here?"

Heero rolled his eyes. "You're just making a date, Barton—not having phone sex."

Trowa's glare could have melted steel. "Out!" he barked sternly.

Smirking to himself, Heero headed out to check on Leon, giving Trowa his privacy and breathing a small sigh of relief at the potential progress.


	33. Ups and Downs

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU, yaoi, swearing, bigotry, some OOC

Pairings: 1X2 eventually, 3X4 also eventually

A/N: Since my last update took so long, I thought I owed folks a second one in short order. Hope you enjoy!

SMOKY HILLS

_"Thunder and Storm tangled with a family of skunks this evening. I doubt I will ever quite get the smell out of the barn, to which they are currently banished. They've been howling more or less non-stop, wanting to resume their place in the nursery with Samuel. But the stench is quite overwhelming and pervasive. Even if I were inclined to ignore it, I'd hardly subject an infant to the eye-watering odor. Tomorrow I'll try Eliza's old formula, if I have any baking soda in the pantry. For tonight, however, the noise is less offensive than the smell. I wish at times like this that Jacob were here to lend a hand. I'm not as young as I used to be…"_

—_excerpt from the private journal of Ephraim Barton_

Chapter Thirty Three: Ups and Downs

Duo was at the table peeling potatoes to make with dinner, when Quatre came bursting into the house, his face practically alight.

"Put that away! We're going out to dinner—my treat."

"Wha—?" Duo looked up with wide eyes, a potato in one hand and a knife in the other.

"You heard me. I'm buying you dinner at Sal's tonight. We're celebrating."

Duo set down his utensil and gave his roommate a long look, narrowing his eyes. "What, exactly, are we celebrating? They make you Postmaster General or something?" He smirked at his own joke.

"I've got a date with Trowa!"

Duo's eyes went wide again. "Seriously?"

"Yes. Tomorrow."

"Wow." Duo grinned up at the blonde, but Quatre grabbed his wrist and pulled him to his feet so he could give him a boisterous hug. "Oof! Easy there!" Duo cautioned as his friend nearly crushed his ribs. "Save it for your loverboy, why doncha?"

Quatre let go, stepping back and blushing and smiling all at once. "Don't call him that—yet," he cautioned, backtracking just a little. "It's only a first date."

"Yeah, but still—." Duo patted Quatre on the shoulder. "He actually asked you out. That's awesome. Did he say where he's taking you?"

"Um—actually, we're going to meet at the library."

"The library," Duo echoed with confusion. "Why not the post office? You could leave your car there and pick it up after he brings you back—assuming he doesn't spirit you off to a seedy motel to have his wicked way with you."

"We're meeting at the library so I can look at his journals and see if I'll be able to do any restoration."

"And then where are you going?"

"Nowhere."

"Nowhere." Duo frowned at his friend, crossing his arms over his chest. "_That's_ your date? Looking at journals at the library?"

"Well—yes."

Duo glared. "That's not a date. That's what I told you to do to get close enough for him to ask you on one."

Quatre glared back. "Don't rain on my parade, Duo. I'm spending tomorrow evening with Trowa. I'll look at his journals. We'll talk. We'll get better acquainted—and it'll be a start."

"Did he use the word 'date' in your conversation?" Duo demanded.

"Well, no."

"Exactly what _did _he say?"

"Well—he said you'd mentioned I did restoration work at the library, and that he had some old journals with a bit of water damage he wondered if I could take a look at."

"That's it?"

"Of course not!" Quatre said hotly, not quite meeting his gaze. "He offered to come to the post office with them, and I suggested the library because I have the equipment there to do a thorough inspection of the volumes."

"Way to go," Duo said dryly. "You had a chance to invite him here, where you might have a snowball's chance of seducing him up to your bedroom—and you picked the freakin' library?" He shook his head. "Have I taught you nothing?"

"As a matter of fact," Quatre growled. "You haven't. I don't see you luring Heero to your room with promises of—of—doggie treats for Thor!"

Duo blinked at the clumsy analogy, but he got what Quatre was trying to say. "I don't have the kind of 'in' with Heero that you have with Trowa. So far all we've got in common are two shaggy monsters and a firm hatred of Otto and Trant. I haven't figured out how to transition that into asking him out for coffee—but I'm working on it. And when I _do _finally ask him, he'll know it's a date—not just a book inspection."

"At least I have plans to be in the same place with Trowa at the same time," Quatre sniffed defensively. "And by the time we're done, I _do _plan on making it clear I considered it a date. So there!"

"I'll believe it when I see it," Duo said loftily.

"Do you want dinner out, or not?" Quatre demanded, matching Duo's stance and fixing a piercing blue-eyed glare on him.

"Sure," Duo agreed.

"Then stop trying to undermine my happiness. Just let me bask in the anticipation, okay?"

Duo's expression softened a bit. "Yeah, you go ahead and bask," he suggested. "I s'pose I'd be doing the same thing if Heero had asked me to dog-sit or something. Close enough to a date, if you squint just right."

"Exactly." Quatre gathered up the potatoes and put them away, while Duo stashed the pots and pans back in their cupboard, and then the pair left to have a celebratory dinner at their favorite place.

By the next morning, however, Duo had just about had enough of his roommate's eager anticipation. Quatre was fretting over what to wear to work, since he planned to go straight to the library afterwards, and Duo kept reminding him it was just a casual meeting and nothing to get worked up about.

Needless to say, his voice of reason was not well-received, and it made for a long morning at the office.

Duo fairly flew through his mail sorting, eager to get out onto the route by himself, where he didn't have to watch his boss get more worked up by the minute. Not that he wasn't happy for him, he told himself. Really, he was.

He told himself that both in the office, and later as he drove out onto the familiar back roads to deliver the mail.

It was just hard to be around someone so full of excitement, when he couldn't share in the optimistic outlook.

If he was brutally honest with himself, he didn't think he'd ever get up the nerve to ask Heero out. In spite of their pleasant talk at the mailbox and his brief show of boldness, when it came right down to it, he was deathly afraid to open himself up to the good-looking guy. He didn't think he could handle the rejection he expected to get.

Face it—Solo had grown up with him. They'd shared an entire childhood. There was no one on the planet who'd known him as well as Solo had—not even Quatre—and in the end, Solo had left.

Who's to say Heero wouldn't do the same, once he got to know Duo well enough?

"Everyone leaves," Duo muttered to himself, slamming a mailbox with a little more force than was necessary. "Solo—Howard—Father Maxwell an' Sister Helen—. Voluntary or not, they leave."

Of course, that didn't explain why Quatre was still sticking around. But Duo figured eventually that would change as well.

"The only thing that stays the same is this godforsaken town," he sighed.

By the time he finished the route, he'd talked himself right into a deep funk, and Quatre's cheery greeting as he stepped in the back door nearly made him groan.

"Two hours and counting!" Quatre said brightly, walking back to take the incoming mail from his employee.

"Yippee," Duo said sourly.

He got a sharp look for his trouble. "You might at least pretend to be happy for me."

Duo sighed, rubbing a hand across his eyes. "Sorry, Quat. You're right. I just did too much thinking out on the road today."

And the fact that it was coming up on the anniversary of the day Solo had left didn't help.

"I hope you have a nice time with Trowa tonight, and that he really _does _ask you out—on a real date."

Quatre patted his shoulder comfortingly. "Thanks. But don't sell me short here. You're my best friend and I'll be looking out for you. I'm going to see about making it a double date—you, me, Trowa and Heero."

"You don't have to—."

"If you won't speak up for yourself, I will."

"Jesus, Quat—give it up," Duo said wearily. "Face it. The reason there hasn't been anyone since Solo is because I'm afraid to let it happen."

"That's only part of it," Quatre assured him. "The lack of eligible guys around here has been just as much of a factor."

"That's some bullshit," Duo scoffed. "All I'd have to do is take a ride down to Lakeville and hit one or two of the gay bars. I could find someone, if I had the balls to try."

"The kind of guy you're looking for wouldn't be hanging around in a gay bar," Quatre said firmly. "You want something _real_—substantial. Not a one-night stand. You could've had a million of those. But you want more. You want a friend _and _a lover."

Duo rolled his eyes, and managed a weak chuckle. "Now you sound like a country song. How's that go? 'Hopin' to find a friend and a lover—.'"

Quatre punched him lightly on the arm. "Stop joking. I'm trying to be serious here."

"I'd really like you not to be," Duo replied firmly. "I'm okay, Quat. Just did way too much soul-searching today, and a bit of wallowing in self-pity and jealousy because you're making much better progress on the romance front than I am. I'll get over it."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, I'm gonna go take a walk an' clear my head. Then I'll probably grab a bite at Sally's, since I expect you to be out late with your new friend." He grabbed Quatre firmly by the shoulders and looked him squarely in the eyes. "When it gets to be closing time at the library, you invite that green-eyed hunk to the coffee shop for a nightcap. And I expect you to have the next date lined up, and maybe even a goodnight kiss under your belt before you get home." He winked teasingly. "Don't bother waking me with your starry-eyed slobber, either. You can tell me all about it in the morning."

Quatre blushed and then recovered and narrowed his eyes. "You're not going to be sleeping off a six-pack are you?"

"I do not plan on drinking tonight," Duo assured him. "Like I said, I'll treat myself to Sally's cooking and then head home and maybe see about signing up for the next on-line class I need."

"Sounds like a plan."

Duo headed out the back door feeling far less discouraged than before. He wasn't sure how he felt about Quatre trying to arrange a double date. But if it meant getting to know Heero better, he was game.

And hell—even if Heero wasn't interested in him romantically, the guy had a pretty good sense of humor, once you got past the hard crust. Maybe they could at least be friends.

True to his word, Duo took that walk he'd mentioned to Quatre—losing himself for a couple of hours in the pine forest along the river near the reservoir. He looked for signs of mountain lions, noted the unfurling fronds of green ferns, and frowned a bit at how low the water was for that time of year, even after yesterday's shower. They really needed a good rain to replenish the levels in both the stream and the reservoir.

By the time he returned to the Jeep, Duo felt much more like himself. He headed for town, already anticipating his tasty meal at Sally's.

* * *

"Trowa, you've changed shirts three times," Heero said with an exasperated huff, putting aside his paint brush and glaring at his brother.

"I know—but after the clown shirt, I have to get this right!" Trowa blurted anxiously. "Is this color okay?"

"It's fine."

"Because I could change it—."

"It's fine!" Heero shook his head. "I have never seen you this wound up before a date—and it's not even a real one."

"Yes, it is. Even though I used the journals as an excuse, I'm going to make the most of it," Trowa assured him.

Thor walked over and gave a cursory sniff to Trowa's pant leg, then looked up hopefully for attention.

"Damn—are these pants okay?" Trowa wondered. "Thor must've smelled something. I wore them out to feed Leon this morning. I should change."

He headed back into the house, and Heero glared at the dog. "See what you've done? He'll probably go through three pairs of pants now, trying to match the shirt."

Thor wagged his tail and went back to lie down next to Balder on a corner of the porch Heero was painting. He was on the last section of railing, and wanted it done before it rained again.

"Hey, 'Ro!"

He looked up to see Trowa leaning out an upper story window, waving a pair of black jeans. "Are these okay?"

"The left back pocket has a tiny rip—remember?" Heero called out with a smirk. "And you better hurry! It's already four o'clock. You've only got a bit over two hours to get ready!" He chuckled as his brother let out a panicked yelp and ducked back inside. "He is _so _easy," he told Thor, who looked up, thwapped his tail on the floor boards, and then put his head back down on his paws.

Heero wasn't surprised when Trowa appeared at the door a few minutes later, car keys and a stack of journals in hand. "Mind if I borrow your car? I have to go to the store."

"Let me guess—you need a decent pair of pants."

"Yes, as a matter of fact," Trowa grumbled defensively. "I wore sweats most of the time I was in the brace, and all my jeans are worn out and ratty-looking."

Heero rolled his eyes. "You do know the nearest clothing store is an hour away—."

"Which is why I have to hurry," Trowa said urgently.

"Sure you're good to drive?" Heero asked. "It's been awhile."

"Actually, Cathy had me do a bit of the driving, so I got to practice up. I'll be fine."

"And how's your leg?"

"Aside from the tiniest bit of an ache, it's perfect. Stop fussing, Heero." Trowa mustered a warm smile. "I'm a big kid now. I can go to the store all by myself. You stay here and get the painting done, so you can stop obsessing about it. I'll take the journals along with me and probably go straight from shopping to my meeting with Quatre."

"Make sure you eat something," Heero reminded him. "In fact, tell Quatre you missed dinner and offer to buy some for both of you. It's the perfect excuse."

"Oh, you're right. It is!" Trowa said happily. "After we look at the books, I can suggest we get a bite together."

"Good choice of words," Heero said with a snicker. "Should I not wait up?"

"I wish you wouldn't," Trowa said firmly.

"What? You don't want the interrogation when you get back?"

"Save it for breakfast," Trowa suggested, in an eerie echo of Duo's instructions to Quatre.

"Have a nice date," Heero said, watching his brother walk briskly to the car and marveling at the improvement in his leg. It was very comforting to see the athletic man back on his feet.

With a jaunty wave, Trowa started up the car and pulled away, leaving Heero and the two dogs alone with their work.

"Just us again, boys," Heero sighed, resuming his chore.

He was finishing up, maybe a half an hour later, when the phone rang. So he laid the brush over the edge of the paint can and went inside to grab it.

"Yuy here."

"I've identified your body," came Chang's peremptory statement.

Heero's eyes widened. "The dental records?"

"Yes. The Smoky Hills police had a Doctor Schbeiker fax me over records for a 'Solo Stevens.' He's your victim, Yuy."

The Japanese man drew a sharp breath, his initial burst of elation giving way to an array of emotions. The normal rush of determination he experienced each time he began a new case was tempered by the realization it wasn't his case; it belonged to the local police, who were just as likely to bungle the investigation as not. Of course, Chang had assured him he could get assigned to it, if he chose. But there were compelling reasons for him _not_ to.

First off, he was out on stress leave, and he wasn't at all sure he'd recovered to a point where he felt qualified to head up a murder investigation. He had no idea if he'd be able to function the way he should, if he ended up in a life-threatening situation. Granted, on a cold case like this, the odds of him encountering trouble were slim; but still, he didn't like to start something he wasn't sure he could finish.

Secondly, he was involved in the case on a personal level. Not only had his dog been the one to find the body, he also was acquainted with the prime suspect—Duo Maxwell. As Solo's boyfriend, and the one who'd filed the missing persons report, the mailman would top the list of "persons of interest" in a case like this.

Duo himself, was a third issue—one Heero didn't care to contemplate right then. But if he were totally honest, he'd have to admit to a growing attraction to the long-haired mailman that rendered his objectivity suspect, if not completely null and void.

"Yuy! Are you still there?"

"I—yes. I'm fine," Heero stammered, forcefully pulling his thoughts back to the conversation.

"I didn't ask that," came the curt reply, followed by a more suspicious query. "What's got you distracted?"

"For fuck's sake, Chang, my dog's the one who found the body!" Heero snapped. "I feel like I'm hip-deep in this case, on a somewhat personal level."

"Questioning your abilities again, are you?"

"No!"

"Of course you are." There was a vaguely disdainful sniff on the other end of the line. "That's always been your one weakness—that lack of confidence."

"I don't lack confidence!" Heero argued, as he had on a prior occasion with his ex-lover. "Don't you think I'm right to question my abilities from time to time?"

"I never question mine."

Heero's eyes narrowed, though Wufei couldn't see. "Of course not," the dark-haired man muttered bitterly. "You're fucking perfect!"

"That's not what I—."

"Of course it is!" Heero paced restlessly to the end of the phone cord. "Look—I don't want to get into this right now. I have to think about this—decide how involved to get, and where to start if I do."

"I've already spoken to Une. Her assumption is that you intend to lead the investigation."

"You told her that? You had no right—!"

"Well who _else _would be qualified in that godforsaken wasteland you're calling home these days?" Chang snorted rudely. "Don't insult me by letting the local fools run with the ball, Yuy. I didn't run the number of tests I did for _them_. I did it for you."

"Why?" Heero challenged. "If I'm such a weak-willed, insecure cop—why put the effort into helping me?"

"You know I don't consider you weak, in any way," came the stern rebuke. "Except for beating yourself up over an unfortunate incident—."

"Unfortunate incident?" Heero cut in. "I shot a little girl, Chang. That's a lot more than an 'unfortunate incident!' It's an unforgivable mistake!"

"You were exonerated by the review board. Just because she was caught in a cross-fire—."

"Stop!" Heero yelled, giving in to the anger and pain that flared whenever he was reminded of what he'd done. "Just shut the fuck up about it Wufei!" He paused, trying to regain control and loosen the death grip he had on the phone receiver. "Please," he finally managed in a ragged whisper.

"I'm—sorry," came a genuinely contrite voice. "I thought—. I thought you were doing better—that you'd put it behind you finally. You sounded like your old self the last time we talked."

"I'm fine, Wufei," Heero said flatly, finally regaining his composure. "Seriously. I am doing fine. But it doesn't help when you and Une are trying to push me back into police work. I'm not sure I'm ready—."

"Yes, but this case demands skills the locals there don't have. You and I both know it. Will you let a killer go free just so you can continue to browbeat yourself over an _accident_? That would only compound your guilt."

He had a point, Heero reflected. If he let himself stay so fixated on a past mistake that he shirked his current responsibilities, wouldn't that just add to the burden of blame?

"You're right," he finally admitted. "I'll—consider taking on the case. But in the interest of inter-departmental diplomacy, maybe I should let the local police try their hand first—."

"If you let them muck up the case, I'll hold you accountable."

Heero rolled his eyes. "Good thing you aren't my boss then."

"No. But I have her ear, as you well know."

"Yes, Chang. I know. Talk to you later. Goodbye," Heero said firmly, before hanging up the phone.

He stood for several minutes, contemplating their conversation—or at least the parts pertaining to the current case, rather than the reason he was on a leave of absence from work.

As he'd told Chang, he had some personal involvement with the case, and it made him uneasy about trusting his instincts.

For example, normally at this point in a case, he'd be researching the prime suspect—and yet it seemed rather like a base betrayal to go digging into Maxwell's past. The man had annoyed the shit out of him at first, but their more recent encounters had been pleasant enough. And he'd made friends with Thor—bringing him home that time he got lost and feeding him biscuits ever since.

His mind drifted back to the day Duo had delivered the registered packet of information from Chang, and he recalled the braided man's questions about the skeleton—how it had been located, and what that might mean. A suspicious man might wonder if Duo had been trying to figure out if his crime had been discovered after all these years, and what the likelihood was that he'd be found out.

Heero didn't want to be a suspicious man; but if he took the case, he'd have to.

"Fuck." He walked onto the porch, stewing over his dilemma, only to find his large, amiable wolfhound lying there gnawing on the wet paintbrush he'd carelessly left out. "Thor!"

The dog looked up unrepentantly, his grey whiskers stained white by the paint on both sides of his jaw, and thumped his tail in greeting.

"Drop it!"

The dog allowed the brush to fall to the floor with a wet plop, and lay there panting happily, oblivious to the drying paint around his mouth.

Even his tongue was coated in the flat latex house enamel, and Heero nearly groaned aloud.

"Dammit, I should've named you Loki, you big ox! I hope Trowa knows a safe method for removing paint from dog hair," he muttered, picking up the brush and slamming the lid back onto the paint. "C'mon, Thor. Let's go clean you up."

Thor stood and stretched, following along without protest—seemingly puzzled by all the fuss.


	34. Rude Awakening

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU, yaoi, swearing, bigotry, some OOC

Pairings: 1X2 eventually, 3X4 also eventually

A/N: Hey, anyone who might've scolded chibichocopaws for nagging me? Totally off base! Chibi is one of my very kind readers, and to my knowledge has never left an unkind review, or hounded me for updates. The note in my profile about that refers to someone from a different e-mail domain altogether, and frankly, it's old news now. I got over it. But after Chibi's last review, I wanted to state for the record that she's never been mean to me in any way, okay? So, no picking on her.

SMOKY HILLS

_"Jacob is dead. Word arrived today_—_a messenger from his regiment brought it, along with a few of his belongings. There's a stack of letters addressed to me, which apparently Jacob never had the opportunity or means to send. I haven't even got the heart to open them. All I know is that there was no need for Jacob to die that way. He didn't have to run off to fight in the war. He should have stayed here and been a son, a husband, and a father. But his guilt over Aaron's death was too great. God help me, I could hate Aaron right now, for what his death did to my son! I can't bring Jacob back, but I can make sure Samuel is never tempted to follow in his foolish footsteps. This child will be raised to cherish family above all else, and only family. The Bartons can take care of themselves, if they just stand together. We don't need the sanctimonious townspeople, or the government, or anyone! We'll take care of our own, and to Hell with the rest__…"_

—_excerpt from the private journal of Ephraim Barton_

Chapter Thirty Four: Rude Awakening

On his way back to town after his relaxing hike, Duo decided to swing by Howie's to top off the gas tank, just in case he and Quatre wanted to do something the next day that involved driving anywhere. He scanned the parking lot for signs of Otto's truck or Trant's beat-up Chevy, and sighed when he saw neither. He wasn't in the mood for their kind of altercation at the moment.

Hilde looked up at the sound of the door chime and when she saw Duo, she smiled in greeting. "Hey there, cutie."

"Right back atcha," he drawled, heading for the soda cooler. "How's things?"

When she didn't respond right away, he turned to see a sort of worried look on her face. "What's the matter?"

Hilde came around the counter, glancing out front to see if anyone else was approaching the store, and relaxing at the sight of the empty parking lot. "Cops came to see dad last night," she said.

Duo's eyebrows shot to his hairline. "What? Why? Your dad's never done anything wrong." He gave a wry smile. "Although, his bein' a dentist—I suppose they could try to charge him with torture or something."

"They wanted some old records," Hilde told him, not even smirking at his joke. "Solo's."

The mailman's jaw dropped, and the can he was holding slipped from his fingers.

Hilde deftly caught it before it hit the floor and held it out, frowning with concern.

"W-why?" Duo managed in a husky whisper, taking the can with a shaking hand.

"Why d'ya think?" she asked a bit snidely, cocking her head to the side and waiting for him to get a clue.

"Dental records—they usually use to identi—." Duo's eyes widened still more and his face paled. "Fuck. They think—? The body on the Barton place—?"

Hilde nodded, moving to slip an arm around Duo's waist when it looked like he might slump to the floor right then and there. "C'mon and sit behind the counter," she urged, escorting him around to the little stool she took her breaks on.

He allowed her to push him onto the seat, his face devoid of color. "Solo—left," he whispered, looking up despairingly. "I mean—everyone _knows_—he just took off—." He shook his head, his expression firming. "He's not dead, Hilde. Solo's alive—somewhere."

"I hope so, too," she said gently, rubbing his shoulders soothingly.

"I don't hope. I _know_," Duo insisted. "He's not dead. He _can't _be."

"It—." Hilde hesitated, not wanting to add to Duo's fears, but unable to help herself. "It would explain why he never came back to you," she said quietly.

"That doesn't matter!" Duo said sharply, warningly. "I don't give a shit why he left any more—or that he didn't come back. But he didn't fuckin' _die_, Hilde. He _didn't_."

She gave a sigh, shaking her head. "Well, we'll find out soon, either way."

Duo pushed up to his feet, shaking off her grip, and setting the soda on the counter. "All they'll find out is that his dental records _aren't _the same as that skeleton they found. That's all."

"Yeah," she agreed weakly, not pushing the issue when Duo was obviously so raw—so in denial. Her expression hardened, though, when he reached under the counter for the little flask Howard had always kept there. "Duo—."

He gave her a dark glare, defiantly pulling the nip bottle out and shaking it to see if there was liquid inside.

"You know I keep it full," she said tartly. "Tradition an' all."

Duo tucked it into his pocket. "I'll bring it back full."

She rang up his soda and the ten bucks worth of gas he requested in silence. But then she caught his sleeve as he turned to go. "Duo—just—don't be driving anywhere while you drink that, okay?"

"I won't," he said unconvincingly, before walking quickly out the door and grabbing the nozzle to fuel his Jeep. It took only a couple of minutes to finish pumping the gas, and then Duo climbed behind the wheel, pulling the flask out of his pocket almost before he was out of the parking lot.

He sipped at it—hell he _drained _it—while driving straight for the overlook. Although Howard's store had been the last place he'd actually seen Solo, Beech Bluff was the place they'd spent the most quality time. And it was the place he'd always dreamed Solo would show up again, full of apologies for running out on him, and maybe some reasons that made sense.

"Please be there," he muttered under his breath. "For God's sake, Solo—don't be dead."

He got to the dirt pull-off where people parked to walk up to the bluff, and had barely thrown the vehicle into park before he was out the door and running through the woods. At a steady sprint, he reached the overlook in record time, bursting from the trees onto the outcropping and stumbling to a halt, panting for air.

The rocky ledge looked like it always had—like it always would. There was a breathtaking view of the lake below, and the green of the hills surrounding it—almost like a sapphire set in green velvet. The shadows were lengthening across the water as the sun set, darkening it to indigo. And of course, Duo saw none of that.

All he saw was the image in his mind's eye, of Solo lounging across the big, flat-topped boulder, holding out a hand in invitation.

"Fuck!" he hissed, flopping down on the cold stone ledge and staring up at the boulder, hoping by sheer force of will to make his imagination become reality. "They're wrong!" he blurted desperately. "I don't know where you are, Solo—but you didn't end up under some goddamned tree on Old Man Barton's farm. No fuckin' way!"

He stood again, too restless to sit still, and paced the length of the ledge, trying to recall any detail in the past eight years that might prove those dental records wouldn't match the skeleton. All it would take was a single call or card—something that indicated Solo was out there somewhere. If he'd contacted _anyone_—.

"Mueller!"

The bartender at State Line had been one of Solo's best friends, back in the day. He was the only one besides Duo who ever showed any sign of missing the brash, cocky mechanic. In fact, they'd commiserated a time or two—Duo and Mueller—downing a few beers and wondering why the bastard hadn't at least said goodbye, or sent a postcard, or _something_.

But what if he had? What if he'd had the decency to communicate with his best pal, since he didn't bother with his boyfriend? And what if he'd told him to keep his mouth shut?

"Fuck," Duo muttered, unable to still his vivid imagination now that it had broken loose.

He had to know. By God, if Solo had any kind of communication with Mueller at all, Duo needed to know—and he needed it _now_.

Besides, he also needed far more liquor than had been in the small flask he'd thrown aside in the Jeep. He wasn't even remotely buzzed yet.

Giving up on the vague notion he'd had when he left Hilde's store—that of drinking himself into oblivion right there on the bluff—Duo headed back down the hill towards the Jeep, thinking instead he'd pay a visit to the State Line Bar and try to drag some reassurance out of Mueller while drowning his fears in the strongest liquor they sold.

He made record time, ignoring speed limits and stop signs with equal contempt, while keeping a sharp eye out for the cops and other motorists. And in no time at all, he was pulling into the dirt lot outside the run-down building, noting with relief that Otto's beat up truck was absent from its customary spot. The last people he wanted to see while grappling with the possibility that Solo was dead, were his two worst enemies.

"Maxwell!" Mueller blurted as the long-haired man entered the bar. "Shit, man. Where've ya been?"

Duo shrugged one shoulder, plopping himself down at the counter. "Around," he said vaguely.

"As if!" Mueller glared accusingly. "I ain't seen you in here in two years—at least!" he continued on with his indignant bluster, even as he was reaching for a frosted glass and the beer tap.

Duo shook his head, making the man pause. "Whiskey," he said curtly. "Bring the bottle."

"Shit." Mueller pulled out a shot glass and plunked it down, then poured it full of Jack Daniels. "What's the occasion?"

Duo tossed back the drink, wincing and blinking as tears stung his eyes. "Fuck," he muttered hoarsely. "Used to go down easier than that."

"As if you could tell," smirked the bartender, recalling all too well how proficient a drinker Duo had become shortly after Solo's disappearance.

Of course, it hadn't been legal for him to drink at that tender age—but he'd had plenty of sources for and ways of procuring liquor.

"Seriously," Mueller persisted. "What's up kid? You ain't set foot in this place since you, Otto and Trant busted it up back when!" He shook a dishrag at Duo, even as his other hand was busy refilling his glass. "Don't start no trouble tonight—got that? Even if Clark or Richter shows up, you better stay cool. The boss will press charges this time."

Duo downed his second shot and gestured for a refill. "'M not looking for a fight," he said flatly.

Mueller snorted skeptically, but poured again.

"Matter of fact," Duo told him somberly. "I wanted to talk to you."

"Me? About what?"

Duo rolled his eyes. "What else?"

"Aw, kid—I told you. I don't know where Solo went. He didn't say shit to me any more 'n he did to you—just disappeared into thin air."

Duo flinched, but kept an intense look on the guy who'd been Solo's closest friend in the world. "Look—I'm not trying to track him down or anything. Or get you to break a confidence. I _get_ that he wanted out of this hellhole. Really, I do. I just need to know—." He swallowed hard against a lump that was trying to form in his throat. "Did you hear from him at _all_? Even a single call? Ever?"

"Duo—."

"I mean it, Mueller," Duo said hastily. "This is important. I need to know he got out of Smoky Hills. That's all."

Mueller frowned, catching the desperation in Duo's voice. "Why, kid? What's happened?" Mueller leaned in closer. "Did you hear something?"

"Dammit—just tell me he contacted you after he left. Just _once_. I don't care why, or how, or what he said. But I need to know he really got clear of this town."

Mueller shook his head. "Wish I could help you, Duo. Really, I do. Woulda liked at least a postcard from the bum sayin' so long, or something. But I got nothing. Just like you." His scowl deepened. "What kinda best friend just splits on you like that, hm? I thought he was better than that—that he'd at least have the balls to say goodbye."

Duo lifted his glass with an unsteady hand. "I'm afraid he _did_," he said raggedly.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," Duo muttered, fumbling for his wallet, and putting enough money on the bar for the drinks, and then some extra before he reached for the bottle.

"Whoa—you know I can't let you take the bottle," Mueller reminded him, grabbing it by the neck. "This ain't a liquor store; it's a bar. You gotta drink it here."

Duo met his gaze steadily. "You owe me, Mueller. Or have you forgotten that time you an' Solo an' Trant—?"

"Fine!" snapped the bartender quickly. "Just—here!" He shoved the bottle towards Duo, who gave him a lopsided grin and a rather malicious wink as he picked it up.

"Thanks, Mule. Trust me—I need this tonight." Duo tucked the bottle unobtrusively along his arm as he headed for the door, although there was only a scattering of patrons in the dark, smoky place.

"Hey, Maxwell."

Duo paused and looked over his shoulder.

"Y'gonna come back sooner next time?"

"I s'pose," Duo conceded.

"And—." Mueller regarded him with a puzzled frown. "Y'gonna maybe explain what this was about?"

"Yeah, I will," Duo replied with only a hint of a catch in his voice. "If it turns out okay, at any rate."

He left before Mueller could pry any further. He rather expected the insightful barkeep might figure it out on his own, anyway. News of the skeleton's discovery was all over town. No doubt news of a possible identity would travel just as swiftly.

Duo climbed into the Jeep, half-tempted to head for the police station next and demand some answers from Ralph. But aside from the foolishness of showing up drunk, after obviously having driven to get there, he knew they'd only stonewall any inquiries he made. He'd have to wait to find out the identity of the skeleton along with everyone else.

Or _would_ he?

Taking a long swig from the bottle of whiskey, he put the vehicle in gear and started towards the too-familiar road around the reservoir. There was only one person likely to know more about those remains than the local cops—and he knew for a fact he'd be home alone this evening.

* * *

Heero had been so wound up after Chang's call, and the resultant cleanup of Thor's paint-splotched face, that he'd taken the dogs out for an extra-long run that afternoon, ending up back at the farm when it was nearly dark.

Leon was yowling sporadically from the barn, demanding his evening rations, and both Wing and Zero set up an immediate screeching at their tardy master when he entered the house.

"Such a welcoming committee," Heero sighed wearily, releasing the dogs in the hallway and tossing their leashes onto the table.

He quickly set about feeding all the animals, if only to shut them up, and then decided he deserved his own meal and a leisurely shower. If Trowa followed his instructions, he'd have the place to himself until bedtime.

So, with that in mind, Heero made himself his favorite sautéed mixture, and settled on the couch to watch the evening news while eating it. Thor and Balder gave up their begging the moment he gave them a stern look and a surly growl, and they settled on their dog beds in the corner and chewed on the cow bones Trowa and Catherine had brought back as a joke. Trowa had pointed out to Heero that giving the dogs an alternative to human bones might ensure they didn't end up with another body on their hands.

It didn't seem as funny now that Heero knew the identity of the one they'd already found.

He tried to keep from musing on that while he ate, and headed for the shower right afterwards, so he wouldn't be tempted to watch the clock for Trowa's return. Once again he would have liked his brother's input on the situation. Should he wait for the Smoky Hills cops to dump the news on Duo, or do it himself?

The decision was more or less taken out of his hands a bit later, when he'd finished his shower and returned to the kitchen to wash up the supper dishes.

There was a faint sound from the driveway, which Heero at first assumed to be Trowa returning from his date. And then Balder and Thor ran to the front door barking.

Over their clamor, he heard a sharp rapping, and so he dried his hands on a dish towel and went to answer the door, wondering who on earth might be visiting at this time of night.

When he pulled it open, Duo was standing on the porch, swaying slightly on his feet, a nearly-empty bottle of whiskey in his hand. "Hey 'Ro."

Cobalt eyes widened as Heero took in the braided man's condition.

"Jesus, Duo—come inside and sit down before you fall down—." Heero stepped aside, tugging the dogs out of the way, and letting Duo stumble past him into the living room and slump onto the couch. He followed as far as the doorway. "Are you—okay?" he asked warily.

Duo shook his head. "Obv-isly not," he slurred, leaning back and closing his eyes. "What'd y'r f'rensic guy say?"

"My what?"

"Th' scientisht."

_Shit! Duo knew._

"Chang? He—made a positive i.d. of the remains," Heero said carefully, cursing inwardly at the speedy rumor mill in Smoky Hills.

"And—?"

Heero walked to the couch and took a seat facing Duo, a worried look on his face. "Are you okay?" he asked again, hoping to delay having to answer Duo's question.

Indigo eyes blinked open and shot him a reproachful look "'Ro—!"

"Okay—stupid question," he conceded hastily. "But, can I get you something to eat? Or maybe coffee? You shouldn't be out in this condition—."

"Condition's fine," Duo growled irritably, blinking and trying to focus on Heero's face, but failing. "I need t'know." He closed his eyes again, as if it was too much of an effort to stay awake.

Heero didn't want to be the one to tell Duo his missing lover was dead. "Know what?" he stalled, hoping Duo might miraculously have fallen asleep, or in his drunken stupor, forgotten what he'd asked.

Or maybe Trowa would get home in time to help him figure out what to do with the tipsy, obviously-distraught man, preferably before he couldn't avoid blurting out the bad news.

"Who was it?" Duo finally mumbled.

Fuck! The man had a one-track mind even when drunk off his ass.

"Duo—."

"Jus'—tell me," Duo sighed, opening his eyes and fixing a pleading look on Heero's face. "_Please_."

Heero grimaced at the desperation in that whisper. "Solo," he said quietly.

A faint sound, somewhere between a groan and a sob, escaped Duo's lips, and he suddenly threw himself forward, into Heero's arms, burying his face on his shoulder.

Heero didn't know what he'd expected for a reaction, but that wasn't it. He stayed frozen in place, feeling the trembling of the lean body in his arms, and hearing the muffled sobs against his shirt.

"Shh," he soothed, running a hand down the long braid and over Duo's back. He wanted to say the usual "let it out," or "it'll be okay," phrases he'd used so often in his job in the past—but somehow Duo's pain seemed too deep to brush off with such trite comments.

When the crying trailed off and he felt the body in his arms go limp a few moments later, he realized the stress and alcohol had caught up to the braided man, leaving him worn out and passed out.

Heero shifted his position and deftly picked up the slim body, easily carrying him up the stairs to his own bedroom and tucking him under the covers, after pausing just long enough to remove his shoes. He wasn't about to start undressing his drunk guest without a witness present to attest to his innocent intentions.

_Innocent? Not likely. He felt a wayward urge to crawl in beside the slender body and keep offering any comfort he could—._

Heero carefully didn't let his thoughts travel down that road right then. In fact, he studiously avoided dwelling on the way Duo's arms had felt wrapped around him, and how angelic that face looked when relaxed in sleep.

"Fucking hell," Heero muttered, tiptoeing down the stairs and heading for the kitchen.

What to do now? He'd just shattered Duo's long-held hope that his missing boyfriend was alive and well somewhere. The odds were that he'd end up having to guide the investigation into Solo's death.

He really shouldn't have a near-stranger, around whom a murder investigation was about to begin, in his bed.

"Where's that damn phone book?" he mumbled, looking to see where Trowa had left it after calling Quatre the previous night.

Yes, Quatre would be the person to call. After all, he was Duo's housemate and boss. No doubt he'd be worried when his friend didn't show up that evening.

Assuming Trowa hadn't distracted the good-looking young blonde into the nearest motel for a bit of private time.

No—Trowa was more serious than that, when it came to Quatre. At least, he didn't seem to be following his usual pattern of short-term affairs.

Heero glanced at the clock, wondering if the postmaster would be home yet, or if Trowa had taken his dinner suggestion to heart. Then he went ahead and dialed the number for Winner in the phone book, figuring he could at least leave a message.

About that same time, Trowa was pulling into the driveway, frowning in confusion at the sight of the red Jeep pulled haphazardly across the lawn, the driver's door still hanging open.

The auburn-haired man parked Heero's car in its customary spot, got out, and walked over to close the door of the Jeep, wondering what on earth was going on. Then, feeling a pang of fear that perhaps something had happened to either his brother or one of the animals, he hastily ran up the front steps.

"Hey, Heero—is everything all right?" he called as he threw open the front door.

"Shhh!" Heero stepped from the kitchen, gesturing him to be quiet, the phone held to one ear. "Yes, that's right," he said to the person on the other end. "No, I think he's okay."

He placed a hand over the receiver and looked at Trowa. "Did you see any damage on the Jeep when you drove up?"

"No—just the door left open," Trowa said with a puzzled look.

Heero moved his hand and spoke into the phone again. "The Jeep looked okay, but I'll check it out more carefully, just to be sure."

"'Ro?" Trowa asked, frowning.

Heero shushed him again, still mainly focused on his phone conversation. "Well, my best guess is that he single-handedly downed a fair-sized bottle of Jack Daniels—. No, he passed out and I carried him up to bed."

Trowa's eyes widened, and as Heero continued to try to explain the situation to whoever was on the phone, the auburn-haired man jogged up the stairs and walked down the hall to Heero's room.

Sure enough, there was someone huddled under the thick quilt, braid trailing across the pillow and over the edge of the bed.

"What the hell—?" Trowa muttered, turning and retracing his steps, determined to get the whole story from Heero.

His brother was apparently just finishing his conversation. "Yes—I'll tell him when he wakes up. Of course he can stay the night." A faint blush crept up Heero's cheeks. "Winner—."

"Quatre?" Trowa demanded. "You're talking to Quatre?" He reached for the phone and Heero slapped his hand away.

"I _will _look after him," Heero promised gravely. "Don't worry. And have a good night." He hung up the phone and gave Trowa an irritated glare. "If you want to call Winner, do it on your own time. I was just letting him know Duo showed up here drunk off his ass and passed out on the couch."

"What? Why?"

"My guess would be that word leaked out that the local police sent Solo Stevens' dental records to Chang for a comparison to the skeleton we found. Duo came looking for answers."

"And did you have any?" Trowa asked warily.

Heero nodded. "Chang called late this afternoon—shortly after you left. The victim was Stevens."

"Shit!" Trowa blurted, his face paling. "You told Duo?"

"I had no choice," Heero sighed. "He showed up here staggering drunk and pretty much begged to know the truth." He ducked his head, looking a bit sheepish. "I couldn't leave him hanging like that—not when he already knew the records were being checked."

"What'd he say?"

Heero shook his head, turning towards the kitchen and gesturing Trowa to follow. "He just sort of threw himself into my arms and cried his heart out for awhile," he said in a slightly husky voice. "Until he passed out."

"Jesus," Trowa breathed, walking past his roommate to grab a cold iced tea. He popped the cap off and turned to face Heero, taking a long swig before talking. "So—you carried him up to your bed?" He arched an eyebrow teasingly.

"All I took off were his shoes," Heero snapped defensively. "He was in no shape for me to even be thinking about that kind of shit."

"Oh come on," Trowa scoffed. "You can't tell me sliding him under the covers of your bed wasn't—tantalizing."

"Under any other circumstances," Heero admitted. "But right now he doesn't need someone trying to get him into bed—not the way _you _meant. He needs—a friend." Heero shrugged slightly.

"Yeah, he does," Trowa agreed. "He needs someone to care about him." He gave his brother a long, searching look. "Think you're up to it?"

Heero paused for a long moment and then nodded. "I do."

Trowa frowned thoughtfully. "You barely know him, Heero. Maybe you should have Quatre come over—."

"And do what? Watch him sleep?" Heero shook his head. "That's not necessary. He's down for the count, and probably won't stir until about noon tomorrow. I can look after him until then."

"And what if he wakes up sooner? What if he has a nightmare or something?"

"I've had my share of those," Heero reminded him. "I'm sure I can help him through." His blue eyes turned a bit haunted. "God—seeing him like that—just broken in pieces—. It just about ripped my heart out."

Trowa smiled, but in a soft, approving way, rather than teasing. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." Heero's expression firmed. "I _want _to take care of him tonight. I need to."

"You are _so _lost," Trowa said with a chuckle, raising his bottle of tea. "And I'm happy for you."

Heero scowled dismissively. "Don't jump the gun, Tro'. Duo's in shock right now, and hurting. He just found out his childhood sweetheart was murdered and dumped in the woods, when the local cops have spent the last eight years insisting he simply left town. I'm not sure he's going to be in a hurry to get into any kind of relationship."

"Does that mean you _are_?"

"I—I'm interested," Heero admitted, as if it pained him. "Like you said, he's a handsome man with an intriguing personality. So, yes, I want to get to know him better—help him through this—maybe pursue a relationship, when he's ready."

"Yes!" Trowa crowed jubilantly. "Finally! You admit it."

Heero rolled his eyes. "Get over it, Barton. You've known all along I was attracted to him. Since before even I realized it."

"Well, yes. I _am _a fairly perceptive guy, after all." Trowa's green eyes gleamed with triumph. "I think Duo's exactly what you need to help you get over your issues, and it's pretty obvious you could be what _he _needs." He gave a pleased smirk. "It's about time I got the two of you together."

"Technically, the credit should go to Thor," Heero said with a faint smirk. "He's the one who found the bone that started all this. He's the reason Duo's upstairs sleeping in my bed right now."

"Sure—give the dog all the glory," Trowa huffed. "Don't you think my magazine subscription might've helped just a _little_? I mean, how likely is it Duo would've turned to you if he didn't know you were gay?"

"He came here because he knew Chang would report his results to me."

"Uh-huh," came the skeptical response. "And why do you suppose he threw himself into your arms? You think that was just something he'd have done with anyone?"

"As a matter of fact, yes." Heero shook his head. "You didn't see him, Trowa. He was a mess. I'd lay odds he won't remember our conversation by tomorrow morning." His face darkened. "I'll probably have to tell him all over again."

"Lucky you."

"Your sympathy overwhelms me."

"Hey, I'm sympathetic," Trowa assured him. "At least, I'm going to be gracious enough to let you share my room, so you don't end up sleeping on the floor tonight." He gave a smile at the expression on Heero's face that told him he'd intended to do just that. "Unless you _want _to—."

"No. Honestly, I don't. I could just as easily look in on Duo every few hours, without sleeping on the floor next to the bed. In your room, I might actually get some sleep in between, too."

"Well then—let's get the dogs out to pee and get ourselves off to bed. If we're going to baby sit a drunken mailman, we should share in the responsibilities."

"I'll take the dogs out. I have to look over the Jeep anyway. And I'll lock up when I come in." Heero gathered the leashes, pausing to look back at his brother. "Hey—I almost forgot to ask how your date went—."

Trowa smiled widely. "In the morning, 'Ro. Didn't we agree I'd tell you in the morning?"

"Yeah, I guess we did," Heero admitted. "Though judging by your expression, it wasn't a total disaster."

His brother's smile turned sheepish. "Well—aside from an unfortunate incident with one of those little rolling carts full of books—."

Heero groaned theatrically. "Tell me your knee wasn't involved!"

"No, but my groin was," came the rueful response. "It was just the right height, and I guess I was paying more attention to Quatre's big blue eyes than where I was going."

"I can imagine," Heero smirked.

"It's okay, though. I got the distinct impression he wanted to offer to kiss it better—." Trowa's eyes went a bit unfocused and dreamy.

"Maybe next time."

"Mmm," Trowa agreed, his mind obviously elsewhere.

"Good night, Trowa," Heero said snidely, snapping the leashes on the dogs and heading out the door.

He didn't wait for a reply, but flipped on the lights and walked the dogs down the steps and over to the Jeep, which as Trowa had said, was undamaged.

"Lucky," he muttered to himself, noticing a few leaves and twigs stuck between the bumper and the body, as if Duo might have done some unintentional off-roading. "Jesus, Duo—." It occurred to him the braided man might just as easily have ended up in the reservoir as at his door that night, and he gave an involuntary shiver.

Thor moved closer, nudging his hand.

"Yeah, I know," he said to the dog. "Close call. Let's see if we can keep him out of trouble in the future, shall we?"

The big wolfhound cocked his head, and then casually walked over and lifted his leg on one tire of the vehicle.

Heero chuckled and fondly patted the shaggy head. "I can always count on you for comic relief, can't I?"

He was grateful for that moment, knowing there'd be less to laugh about the next day when Duo revived and wanted answers.


	35. Morning After

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU, yaoi, swearing, bigotry, some OOC

Pairings: 1X2 eventually, 3X4 also eventually

SMOKY HILLS

_"I began reading Jacob's letters today. The first few spoke mostly of his love for Annabelle, and his concern for her happiness. He must have seen the same lingering melancholy in her that I so often saw. I'm sure that's part of the reason he left. But in one of his last letters, he spoke of a much deeper reason for his leaving. I underestimated his guilt in Aaron's death; I underestimated everything…"_

—_excerpt from the private journal of Ephraim Barton_

Chapter Thirty Five: Morning After

Duo woke with a pounding headache and churning stomach, in an unfamiliar bed.

"Aw, no," he muttered, trying to recall the previous evening. It had been years since he'd been foolish enough to go out bar-hopping to try to pick up guys, and even then, he'd never ended up in a stranger's bed.

But when he blinked at the ceiling, squinting and trying to search his memories, he came up empty.

"Fuck me," he mumbled under his breath.

Faintly he heard a ticking sound, at regular intervals, and then a large, furry face shoved its way between his arm and the comforter it was draped over.

Duo let out an undignified yelp, and scooted himself up towards the head of the bed, pulling the covers protectively around himself as the big wolfhound looked on curiously. "Jesus fucking Christ!" Duo blurted. "Thor, don't _scare _me like that!"

_Wait a sec. _

He looked again. "Thor?"

The big dog wagged its tail hopefully, edging closer, until Duo automatically dropped a hand on its shaggy brow and gave a cursory scratch.

"I see you got your wakeup call," came an amused voice.

Duo looked over to find Trowa leaning in the doorway smirking. "Uh, yeah. I guess. Um…" He frowned, plucking at the comforter with his free hand. "How'd I get, um, _here_?"

"According to Heero, you arrived with an empty bottle of Jack Daniels and passed out on the couch."

Memory flooded back to Duo, and he blushed hotly, recalling that he'd actually passed out in Heero's arms, after crying his eyes out on the man's shoulder. "Oh fuck."

Trowa gave a shrug. "Don't sweat it, Duo. I'd've had the same reaction to that kind of news."

On the heels of his words, Duo remembered why he'd broken down in the first place, and felt a sharp stab of pain in his stomach. "Solo—," he whispered disconsolately, blinking back a fresh wave of tears.

"There's coffee downstairs, whenever you're ready for it," Trowa went on briskly, half-turning away to give Duo some measure of privacy. "Bathroom's the first door on the right as you head for the stairs. Feel free to freshen up if you want—clean towels are under the sink."

"'K," Duo managed a bit hoarsely, shifting under the thick covers and realizing he was still fully clothed, except for his shoes.

"I'll be downstairs," Trowa added. "Holler if you need anything."

"Yeah. Thanks."

Then Trowa was gone, and Duo rolled over and buried his face in the pillow, choking back sobs.

Solo was dead. All these years, he'd been dead.

When he'd disappeared, there'd been speculation, and rumor; Duo had filed the missing persons report of course, but the police hadn't taken it very seriously. And eventually, Duo had begun to agree with the popular opinion that his lover had simply skipped town, leaving Duo, as well as the town he hated so much, behind.

Now, he knew better. Solo hadn't left him; he'd been murdered.

The braided man pushed himself up sharply, his breath catching and hangover forgotten, as he realized the broader implications. Solo had been _murdered_.

He threw aside the covers, suddenly desperate for answers, and began searching for his discarded footwear and that bathroom Trowa had mentioned.

Heero and Trowa were both in the kitchen when Duo skidded around the corner, his eyes wild and his hair unkempt. "Who killed him, 'Ro? D'you know who killed Solo?"

Heero shook his head, standing up from the table and taking a step towards Duo. "We don't know anything yet," he said evenly. "Aside from the identity of the victim."

"It wasn't just a _victim_," Duo snapped. "It was _Solo_." He grabbed Heero by both shoulders. "I need to know what happened to him, Heero."

"You will," came the steady response. "But you'll have to be patient. Let Chang do his job and determine the cause of death, and we'll have a starting point for an investigation."

"I'll give you a starting point," Duo said darkly. "Talk to those fuckers Trant and Otto! They hated Solo's guts. They were half the reason he wanted out of this shithole of a town—them and their 'holier than thou' parents."

Heero caught Duo's wrists with his hands, keeping them steady on his shoulders. "Calm down and listen to me," he said firmly. "Making wild accusations isn't going to help. You've got to realize, everyone's a suspect at this point…everyone in town, and anyone who might have been passing through. In fact, until we have a clear cause of death, we have no leads at all."

Duo's eyes narrowed, as he homed in on part of Heero's statement. "What do you mean 'everyone's a suspect?' Does that include _me_?"

Heero winced a little, and then made his face look impassive as he shrugged. "Speaking from experience, a jilted lover is the prime suspect in most murder cases, until a more promising lead presents itself."

"I wasn't _jilted_," Duo snapped. "Solo loved me!"

"Until his body was found, everyone in town believed he'd left you," Heero pointed out. "The cops will probably suggest that he was intending to, and that perhaps you two fought—." His tone was carefully neutral; but not neutral enough.

"Fuck you!" Duo snarled, pulling away. "You think I'd do something like that? Well, fuck _you_!" He turned sharply and stomped through the hallway and out the front door, slamming it forcefully behind him.

"Nice going," Trowa commented mildly, over the sound of the Jeep starting up with a roar. "Most guys don't accuse someone they'd like to sleep with of killing their former lover."

Heero scowled darkly. "I didn't accuse him—."

"You might as well have."

"I was just saying what the police are likely to think—."

Trowa sighed and rolled his eyes. "Lame, Yuy. I swear, you and Duo are _never _going to get together at this rate."

"Oh, and you and Quatre are doing so much better!" Heero shot back with a glare. "Spent the evening poring over information on document restoration. Did you even buy him that cup of coffee? No. You chickened out worse than me!"

"The head librarian was standing right there!" Trowa shot back. "If the bitch hadn't stayed until closing time and insisted on walking out with us, I _was _going to invite him for coffee. But knowing the depth of prejudice in this town, I didn't want to put him on the spot like that."

"And he probably felt the same about you," Heero pointed out. "So don't point fingers, Trowa Barton. You're being as timid as I am."

Trowa ducked his head, looking a bit sheepish, and glanced up from under his thick bangs. "At least Quatre didn't tell me to fuck off. You're doing a much better job of alienating Duo," he muttered defensively.

"And I'll fix it," Heero said flatly. "But right now, I'm late in taking the dogs out for their run, and we've got dishes and laundry to do. Not to mention your lion needs feeding. Finish your breakfast, and I'll go grab the hamper."

"Geeze—bossy aren't you?" Trowa groused. Darting a snide glance at Heero, he added in an undertone, "I hope Duo's a Sub, 'cause you've got definite Dom tendencies..."

"What was that?" snapped his keen-eared brother.

"You heard me."

"I'd better have heard wrong!"

Trowa snorted in wry amusement at the ominous look on Heero's face, unable to suppress a smirk of his own. "I said you might wanna grab the sheets off your bed, too." He dug back into his oatmeal. "I could smell the stale whiskey from the door." His expression turned speculative. "Come to think of it, that might account for Duo's temper this morning; he's probably hung over as hell."

"Can you blame him?"

"Not at all. I'm just glad he didn't puke on the floor."

* * *

By early afternoon Heero had taken his morning run, finished cleaning up the breakfast dishes, and had moved on to laundry while Trowa fed Leon, cleaned his enclosure, and then took a much-needed shower. After freshening up, Trowa came downstairs thumbing through the history of Smoky Hills that Heero had checked out of the library.

He spotted his brother folding clothes in the laundry area attached to the kitchen when he went to get a bite to eat.

"You still here?" Trowa asked with a scowl.

"Where else would I be?"

Trowa sighed heavily, brushing past Heero and going to the refrigerator. "I dunno…maybe begging forgiveness from the second-hottest guy in town."

Heero cocked an eyebrow. "Begging? Me?"

Trowa shrugged, taking out a bottle of water and twisting the cap off. "Seems like the only way you'll ever get back in his good graces."

"And I need that, why?" Heero turned away, folding another towel and setting it on the table.

"Because you _want _him." Trowa plunked himself down in a chair and fixed a steady gaze on his friend. "You know he's gay, and interested, Heero. Don't let him slip through your fingers because you don't want to admit you said something stupid."

"It was the truth."

"Doesn't mean it wasn't stupid," Trowa argued reasonably. "Some things are better left unsaid."

"It's a little late for that."

"Never too late to apologize."

Heero scowled over his shoulder. "All I said was that—."

"It's not what you said; it's what you _didn't _say. You didn't tell him you believed in his innocence no matter what the local shit-for-brains cops might say."

"Maybe I don't."

Trowa's eyes narrowed. "Then maybe you don't deserve to date him." He shook his head. "I'm tempted to belt you one, for even suspecting a nice guy like Duo. You know you don't believe he could've murdered Solo. You saw his reaction to the news. Do you think he could have faked that? You told me he totally broke down—cried until he passed out. Don't tell me he was just upset that he might get caught after all these years. You know full well it was shock and grief."

"Hai," Heero conceded, not looking up from folding towels.

"On the other hand," Trowa couldn't resist throwing in. "In the movies it's always the one you least suspect who turns out to be the insane killer."

Heero glared his response. "That's why they're movies—_fiction_—because they rarely resemble real life."

Trowa chuckled happily. "Jeeze, but you're in love with the guy!"

Heero looked away without denying the accusation.

"Then go find him and tell him you never meant to imply you _agreed _with his being a suspect," Trowa urged.

"Find him, where? It's not like I know the town all that well. And I sure as hell don't know Duo's hangouts. I have no idea where to start looking."

"Try the location of the body. If it were my lover, and I'd just found out he was murdered, that's where I'd go."

"Duo doesn't know where the body was found."

"Then try the post office. Or look around town. That Jeep is pretty distinctive looking. You might just spot it parked somewhere."

Heero gave a non-committal grunt. "Maybe when I finish the laundry." He darted one final glare at his roommate. "_Second_-hottest?" He asked as the phone started to ring.

"Quatre's hotter."

"Better get your eyes looked at."

"And you need your head examined."

Heero snorted wryly and went to pick up the phone. "Hello?"

"Hi, Heero? It's Quatre. Any chance I could talk to Duo for a minute?"

Heero blinked in surprise. "He's not here."

"Oh, so he's on his way home?"

"I—don't know," Heero admitted, looking at Trowa, who raised a questioning eyebrow. "He left first thing this morning."

"What? When?"

"Around eight or nine." Heero glanced at the clock, realizing it was already well past noon. "He hasn't been home yet?"

"I haven't heard from him at all," Quatre replied, his voice tight. "Did he say where he was going?"

Heero sighed. "When he got up this morning, he was pretty hung over. And I foolishly made mention of the fact that the police might consider him a potential suspect in Stevens' death. He kind of flew off the handle at me, and took off."

"Oh." There was a long pause, and then a worried puff of breath. "I wish you'd called me. I'd have started looking for him hours ago—."

"I had no idea he wouldn't go straight home," Heero said flatly. "I just assumed—." He shook his head. "That was stupid of me, wasn't it? To think he'd act rationally when he just found out his missing boyfriend was dead. Do you have any idea where he might have gone?"

"God—a million places," Quatre said anxiously. "The reservoir—the bluff—hiking in the woods. Hell, he might've ended up at the State Line Bar, for all I know. When he's upset he usually wants to be alone. But—."

"You don't think he'd be—suicidal or anything?"

"Duo? Hell, no!" Quatre said firmly. "Just angry and distraught. He might take off to be by himself, or he might head for State Line looking for a fight. But he'd never purposely harm himself. I'm just not sure where to begin looking—."

"Listen," Heero said, frowning with concern. "You stay by your phone in case he calls. I'll drive around those places you mentioned and see if I can spot the Jeep, okay?"

"I'd appreciate that," Quatre said with a sigh. "I can make a few phone calls, too, and see if he's at Sal's, or Hilde's store."

"I'll let you know when I find him," Heero promised. "Talk to you later."

"Duo's gone missing?" Trowa asked, as Heero hung up the phone.

"He didn't go home, and Quatre's worried." Heero's brow furrowed. "I am too." He shook his head. "You were right. I should have gone after him the moment he left. I just thought he'd want to go home and freshen up—or sleep off the rest of his hangover."

"Don't blame yourself," Trowa said soothingly. "As I pointed out earlier, you don't know him that well. You could only go by what you would've done in the same situation."

"I'm not sure _what _I'd have done if I were in his place," Heero admitted. He went over to the counter and pulled a thermos out of the cupboard. "Would you mind making a sandwich for me to take along?"

"No problem." Trowa set about slapping together a couple of thick chicken sandwiches, while his brother brewed a fresh pot of coffee, to fill the thermos. "This is kind of sweet," he commented as he worked. "Like going out to find a lost puppy or something."

Heero glared over his shoulder. "I just know he left this morning without even a cup of coffee to start his day. I'm guessing he might be cold and hungry by now—it's not that warm out."

"Want a blanket?" Trowa asked, glancing at the thermometer and deciding that sixty degrees really wasn't very warm, considering Duo had been in jeans and a tee shirt. Unless he had a jacket in the Jeep, or had gone somewhere indoors, he was likely to be a bit cold.

"Yes, please," Heero replied, grabbing a paper bag from the pantry and setting it on a chair. "And a flashlight, in case this takes longer than I hope it does."

Within a matter of moments, they had the bag packed with a few emergency supplies, topped off with the thermos and sandwiches, and Heero was headed for the door.

"Wanna take Thor along?" Trowa suggested. "He's no bloodhound; but he really seems to like the mailman. He might be able to sniff him out."

"No. Keep him here for now. If I don't locate Duo before dark, maybe I'll have you meet up with me and bring the dogs along. But I'm hoping he's just gone someplace quiet to brood, and that I'll be able to spot the Jeep and track him down."

Trowa's brow furrowed. "You don't think he'd have done anything—drastic?"

"Like try to join his dead lover?" Heero asked tightly. "I sure as hell hope not."

But as he drove out the driveway, he was beginning to fear the worst.

* * *

As Trowa had pointed out, he had no idea what Duo might do—how attached he'd been to his former boyfriend, or how stable a personality he had. Despite Quatre's assurances, he wasn't convinced Duo wouldn't be suicidal.

He headed for the main road, figuring he'd pass the bluff and the reservoir on his way to Howie's, where he thought he'd start his search. But as he rounded the corner and ended up on the road over the dam, he glimpsed a familiar red vehicle in the parking lot on the opposite side.

He let out a breath he hadn't been aware of holding, and turned into the lot.

Duo lay across the hood of the Jeep, using the windshield as a back rest. His eyes were closed and his face was turned up towards the sun. And although it was a mild Spring day, there was a cool breeze ruffling his bangs and sending chestnut wisps dancing around his face.

Heero parked alongside the Jeep and took his time gathering the thermos and supplies he'd assembled. He noticed Duo never looked over to see who was there, and wondered if perhaps he was asleep or had gone on another drinking binge and passed out.

After debating awhile on the best approach, Heero finally took out his cell phone and checked to see if there was a signal. Then he walked over and stood beside the Jeep, clearing his throat quietly.

He waited until he saw one indigo eye peek open a crack, and held out his phone. "Call Quatre," he said matter-of-factly. "He's worried."

Duo's eyes flew open and he sat up sharply. "Shit! I forgot!" He took Heero's phone and punched in his number, darting a sheepish glance at the dark-haired man.

"Hey, Quat. It's me—."

Heero could hear an agitated reply, though he didn't catch the words.

"Yeah, I know—," Duo said, his tone contrite. "I just—totally blanked, an' forgot all about the fact that I never came home last night. You must've been—." He paused and settled a searching look on Heero. "Oh, he did? Well—that's good. You didn't have to worry all night." Another pause. "Yeah, no thanks to me. I know I should've called. But I kind of passed out. I didn't mean to just leave ya hanging."

He let his gaze roam across the lake. "No, we didn't talk for long this morning. I'm sure he would've mentioned calling you. But I kinda took off—." This time there was a flicker of heat in the look Duo shot Heero.

Quatre's voice rose again, no doubt scolding his wayward friend, and Duo hung his head. "I know, an' I'm sorry. _Really_." He sighed deeply. "Now? Well, no—I don't have anywhere—. What? Okay. Yes, mother. I'll come straight home—."

Heero held out a hand and wiggled his fingers. "I'd like a word with him if it's okay."

"Sure. Quat? Heero wants to talk to you."

Heero took the phone, giving Duo a reassuring smile. "Quatre?"

"Yes, Heero. Thank you for tracking him down," came a relieved voice.

"No problem," Heero assured him. "But before I send him home, I wanted to clear up a few things. Do you mind if he's a little bit late?"

There was a short pause. "I—guess not." Quatre's voice softened a bit. "But let him know I'm making supper? If he hasn't eaten all day—."

"I won't keep him long, I promise."

"Okay." Quatre paused a moment. "I really appreciate you going to all this trouble."

"I don't mind. It's the least I can do, considering Thor started this whole mess. Just relax and know that Duo will get home safely."

"Yes, thanks."

Heero closed his phone and looked at Duo, whose gaze had settled on the thermos in his other hand. "Could you use a cup of coffee?"

"God yes!"

Heero pulled out one of the mugs he'd brought along, as well as the little jar of sugar and one of milk, and set them on the hood of the car, keeping his gaze on the tasks at hand, instead of the wide, assessing eyes that followed his every move.

"What are you doing out here?" Duo finally asked, as Heero poured hot coffee from the thermos.

"You mean, aside from calming your worried roommate's nerves?" Heero asked, handing him the mug.

Duo nodded, reaching for the sugar.

"Bringing you coffee?" Heero suggested with a hint of a smirk.

He saw a fleeting smile cross Duo's lips and then get suppressed. "Seriously," Duo insisted, looking up from under his bangs.

"I wanted to apologize."

"For what—thinkin' I could've killed Solo?"

"I never believed that; not for a minute. Especially not after seeing how you reacted to the news."

Duo grimaced at the reminder of his breakdown, and looked away.

"I just wanted you to be prepared; you might get that reaction from others."

"Not from anyone who knew me an' Solo," came a curt reply. Duo looked up at him questioningly. "So you came out here 'cause Quat sent you—and so you could apologize?"

"It was—important," Heero admitted. "I didn't want you thinking I believed you were capable of murder."

Duo gave a wry snort. "Well, thanks, I guess. But how would _you _know, one way or the other? You hardly know me."

"I know enough," Heero told him, encouraged by the fact that Duo hadn't told him to get lost yet. Maybe he hadn't fucked up his chance to get better acquainted with the good-looking mailman. He dared a step closer. "And maybe I'd like to know more."

Indigo eyes shot him a wary look. "More?"

Heero nodded. "Yeah, more."

Duo looked away again, sipping his coffee, and then glanced back at the dark-haired man. "Why?"

Heero blinked in surprise, caught off guard by the blunt inquiry.

_Because you're gorgeous…because you have the most captivating eyes I've ever seen…because you have an intoxicating laugh…because something about you tugs at every protective instinct I own…_

While he hesitated, Duo finished downing the cup of coffee and slid off the hood of the Jeep. He held out the cup to Heero. "Thanks for the coffee. I gotta get home to Quat, and you've got Trowa," he said flatly.

Heero frowned in confusion. "What do you mean—?"

Duo shook his head. "Nothin', Yuy." He gave a jaunty wave as he opened the car door. "See ya at the mailbox sometime."

Heero was left standing with the empty cup, watching as Duo backed the Jeep out of its parking space and drove away. "What the fuck did I do wrong?" he asked himself out loud.

He thought about it the whole way home, wondering what he might have said that took the warm gleam out of those indigo eyes and replaced it with a wary, almost wounded look. He'd apologized, and it seemed Duo accepted it. He'd definitely been grateful for the coffee. What, then, had gone wrong?


	36. Consequences

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU, yaoi, swearing, bigotry, some OOC

Pairings: 1X2 eventually, 3X4 also eventually

SMOKY HILLS

_"…couldn't explain it to you. I couldn't bear to see the condemnation I was sure I'd find in your eyes. But when Aaron fell, we'd been fighting_—_over Annabelle. We were on the mossy ledge of the falls, and when I pushed him, he slipped. And there was a moment when I think I could have saved him_—_as he clung to the edge and called out to me for help. But I hesitated. For a split-second I let my jealousy rule, and by the time I acted, it was too late. I lost my best friend because I envied him. I murdered my best friend..."_

—_excerpt from a letter from Jacob to Ephraim Barton_

Chapter Thirty Six: Consequences

Duo sighed as he shut off the Jeep. He knew full well that Quatre was going to fuss, and for once, he didn't welcome the attention.

He'd been trying all day to block the thought of Solo's bones ending up stuffed under a tree, dug up by a wandering dog, and finally sitting in a lab somewhere while emotionless scientists picked over them.

He hadn't had much success though.

As far as how he felt about all of this—well, he wasn't quite sure about that, either.

For so many years, he'd been angry and hurt over Solo's disappearance, blaming first himself, and then Solo, and then the town of Smoky Hills and pretty much everyone in it. He'd figured Solo had decided he needed to get out of the constricting intolerance of the small, close-knit town so desperately that he couldn't wait for Duo to graduate so they could leave together.

He'd transitioned from hating Solo, to missing him so much it hurt, to dreaming of his return, and eventually giving up and letting go of any hope of that dream coming true. In a sense, he'd already gone through the whole grieving process, and begun to move on. Aside from an occasional memory that dredged up either a wistful smile or a stab of pain, he'd almost stopped thinking about him.

That was until Heero Yuy moved to town, and Duo was forced to make a daily trip down a very literal memory lane.

And he was pretty proud of how he'd handled _that _bit of heartache—even going so far as to entertain notions of forging a relationship with the guy, which would have been the ultimate poetic justice. The man who made him revisit his past with Solo could also be the man who helped him finally get over it and truly move forward.

At least, he'd entertained those notions up until he realized his first instincts had been right; Heero was with Trowa.

Even in his frantic rush to get his shoes on, visit the bathroom and run down to demand answers about Solo's death, he hadn't overlooked the fact that there were only two finished bedrooms in the upstairs of that house. One had been the guest room he occupied, and the other had obviously been shared by the two inhabitants of the house.

He almost wished Heero had just left him on the couch and thrown a blanket over him. At least that way he could have continued in his little fantasy. He wouldn't have known their sleeping arrangements one way or the other.

But the oh-so thoughtful man had carried him up to the guest room and kindly tucked him in. And then he'd come looking for him after he took off. He'd cared enough to bring coffee, which was such a sweet gesture it just tugged at Duo's heart.

He'd even flirted, sort of.

"_Maybe I'd like to know more…"_

If that wasn't an invitation of some kind, Duo didn't know what was. And he'd been _so _tempted to tell him more—to tell him anything he wanted to hear. But the last thing Duo would ever dream of was breaking up a couple—let alone a couple so obviously suited to one another as Heero and Trowa.

He hadn't had a chance to see how the two interacted. But he knew what a friendly, funny guy Trowa was. And he'd seen how pleasant and thoughtful Heero could be. He was the last person who'd want to hurt either one of them—or help them hurt each other.

Duo really, really hoped he'd misinterpreted the "like to know more" comment—that Heero wasn't a cheater, but a nice guy who wanted to be his friend because they both liked dogs and spending time in the woods.

"Damn him anyway," he muttered, resting his head on the steering wheel. "Why'd he have to be so damn nice to me?"

It made it all the harder driving away from the first guy he'd looked at seriously since Solo.

But if Heero was the kind of man who'd cheat on a nice guy like Trowa, he wasn't anyone Duo wanted to be with.

_If only he wasn't so gorgeous…_

"Coming in, or are you going to sit out here all day?" asked a voice from beside the car.

Duo looked up sharply, into concerned blue eyes. "Not sure," he admitted sheepishly, warmed by Quatre's concern, which was at least genuine and pure. "Could we not talk about this just yet?"

"Talk about what?" Quatre asked with a teasing smirk. "You sitting in your car staring into space? Or whether you're going to remain there all day?" He laid a gentle hand on Duo's shoulder, ignoring the flinch. "Come inside and let me make some cocoa to go with lunch. I promise we don't need to talk about anything until you're ready."

Duo grunted his assent, and opened the car door, getting out and bracing himself—certain that in spite of his low-key approach Quatre would drag him into a sympathy-induced bear hug.

But his roommate merely turned and walked away, expecting him to follow.

Once inside, Quatre went quickly about his business, heating water for the cocoa and grabbing a bag of mini-marshmallows from the cupboard. "Hungry?" he asked, not even looking at his somber companion.

"Not really." In spite of having had nothing but the coffee Heero brought him, Duo couldn't muster up much of an appetite.

"Could you eat some toast maybe? Or a bit of the soup I made today?"

"I guess."

"Then we could get busy cleaning the gutters, since it's a warm day."

"Sure," came a listless response.

Duo knew what his friend was up to—planning to spend the remainder of the day dancing smoothly around the subject of Solo's death, filling the time with idle conversation and meaningless chores. While it was better than talking about Solo, he doubted it would do much to take his mind off him.

Quatre set a cup of steaming cocoa in front of Duo and went to throw some bread in the toaster and dish up some soup. "I never got to tell you about my date," he said brightly.

Duo looked up with a frown. "Date?"

"With Trowa?" Quatre said chidingly. "Last night? I was meeting him at the library—."

"I know _that_," Duo said a bit testily. "But you keep using the word 'date,' and I don't think it was."

He couldn't imagine Trowa stringing Quatre along—let alone cheating on a drool-worthy partner like Heero. It had to have been a misunderstanding that Quatre thought their book meeting was a real date.

"It was a date!" Quatre asserted.

"Did he kiss you goodnight?"

"Well, no."

"See?" Duo snipped back. "Not a date."

"Yes, but—."

"Do you have plans to meet up again?"

"Not yet, but—."

"Get over it then," Duo said curtly. "Trowa needed help with his journals and came to you because I told Heero you knew about that stuff, and Heero told him. Simple as that. There's nothing romantic about it."

"But we really hit it off," Quatre insisted, grabbing the toast and setting it next to the bowl of soup he'd put on the table.

"They're a couple, Quat."

"What? No. I don't think so—."

"They sleep in the same fuckin' bed!" Duo snapped. "Now would you just drop it?"

At Quatre's wounded look, he took a long sip of cocoa, almost enjoying the slightly too-hot burn down the back of his throat. He deserved to suffer for picking on the sweet blonde.

But Quatre needed to be set straight. He couldn't be allowed to be taken advantage of. And he'd no sooner want to break up a couple than Duo would. He had to know the truth about Heero and Trowa.

"Maybe—."

Duo stood up sharply, slamming down his mug. "I'm going to take a shower." He turned and stalked out of the room, every bit as wound up by the conclusion he'd reached about Heero and Trowa as he was by Solo's death.

Everything was jumbled up in his head, and he was so torn between anger and grief and frustration that he couldn't settle on any one emotion.

So he busied himself with something he could do automatically. He stripped out of the clothes he'd slept in, tossing them on the floor of the bathroom, and turned the water on as hot as he could stand it, before stepping under the stinging spray.

Then he methodically unbraided his hair and worked the shampoo through the long strands, washing the stink of whiskey and sweat out of it, and letting the water soothe away some of his stress.

It wasn't until he'd moved on to washing his body, and the cloth snagged on the gold cross around his neck, that it all came back to him in a rush.

"_What's this for?" Solo asked Duo, looking at the small box he'd given him._

"_It's a going away present."_

"_You didn't have to do that. And I'm not—."_

"_Just open it."_

_Solo opened the box and took out a gold cross on a chain, holding it up with a frown. "Duo—this is yours—."_

"_It was. But now I want it to be yours."_

"_I can't take this," Solo protested. "Father Maxwell gave it to you."_

_Duo recalled all too well that the kind priest had given him the shining gold chain and cross the last time a family declined to adopt him. He'd told Duo to remember that he was always wanted by the Holy Father, and that an Earthly home and family was nothing compared to what waited in Heaven._

"_I want you to have it," he said firmly "Now that you got adopted, I don't want you to forget your family here."_

"_Jesus, Duo—," Solo blurted, pulling him into a bear hug. "I could never forget you!"_

_Duo sniffled, hugging back even harder._

"_Aw, don't cry!" Solo chided, burying his face in the chestnut hair. "You know boys don't cry."_

_Duo's only response was to choke down a sob that wanted to slip past the lump in his throat._

"_And give me some credit," Solo added soothingly. "Just 'cause I'll live a couple miles away, don't mean I won't be around. The Stevens'll let me stop by. And I'll see you in school."_

"_Yeah, I guess—."_

"_You don't guess—you know! You know me." Solo pushed him back to arm's length, glaring sternly down with tear-filled eyes. "We're family, Duo. You're more family to me than those people could ever be. I'd never turn my back on you. And I won't ever leave you. Even if I'm not here at the orphanage, I won't be far away."_

"_Promise?"_

"_I swear t'God, Duo. I'll always be there for ya!"_

"Then where the fuck are you now?" Duo whispered, burying his face in his hands and letting his tears mingle with the water cascading around him.

He gave in again, leaning back against the tiles and sobbing helplessly, losing track of the time and forgetting about the thin walls in the old house, until the water had turned cool and he heard the bathroom door open and quick footsteps cross the room.

"Goddamnit, Duo! I should've known better!" Quatre blurted, yanking back the shower curtain and turning off the water.

He threw a towel around the shivering, sniffling man, pulling him into a determined hug. "I should've done this as soon as you got home," he murmured against the wet hair. "But I was trying to give you space. Stupid of me! You might've fallen apart when you were drunk, but the news hadn't really sunk in yet, had it?"

He led an unresisting Duo out of the bathtub and wrapped a towel around his hair. "Let's get you to bed, and to hell with the gutters. You probably slept like crap last night. Alcohol _does_ that. You need a couple of aspirin, and to eat a little of the soup you left behind." He tugged the mailman down the hallway and nudged him towards his bed. "Get under the covers and stay put," he ordered.

Duo didn't argue at all. In fact, he let Quatre take over completely.

The blonde hustled to the kitchen and re-heated the soup, grabbing a tray and setting a bowl, spoon and napkin next to two aspirin and a cup of water. It only took a few minutes, and when he got back to Duo's room, the braided man had donned pajamas and was obediently curled up under his quilt.

"Here," Quatre said, putting the tray on the night stand. "First, the aspirin."

Duo meekly took the pills and downed them along with the glass of water. Then Quatre set the tray carefully across his lap, watching him pick up the spoon and eat the soup with an almost expressionless face. His motions were automatic as he nibbled the toast and consumed the entire bowl of soup, apparently without tasting a single bite.

Normally he'd have critiqued it, or commented on how the carrots were cut on a slant, instead of straight across, or _something_. And Quatre was a bit alarmed by his lack of interest.

He noticed Duo kept fiddling with his gold cross, and decided to use that as a conversation-starter.

"I know I never asked before," he said brightly. "But you always wear that necklace. Where'd it come from?"

He thought at first that Duo wouldn't reply, but his fingers stilled and he looked directly at Quatre for the first time since he'd hauled him out of the shower. "Father Maxwell."

Well, that explained why, when Duo was especially upset, he tended to touch or hold the little gold cross.

The indigo eyes had a distant look in them, as if Duo were somewhere far away, instead of right next to his concerned roommate. "I gave it to Solo when he got adopted—." There was a slight hitch in his voice as he added, "So he wouldn't forget me."

"But if you—?" Quatre sighed, sitting beside him and wrapping an arm around his shoulders. "Oh, Duo. He didn't forget you. You guys got together _after_ Solo was adopted, right?"

"Yeah."

"And he didn't leave you," Quatre added.

"I know." Duo rubbed at his eyes. "I'm not mad any more," he said quietly. In fact his voice was barely over a whisper. "I'm just—."

When his voice faded out, Quatre took over for him. "—exhausted. You're exhausted. Think you could sleep a little if I close the drapes and turn off the lights?"

"I dunno." Duo sighed, slumping back against his pillows. "I can't seem to stop thinking, y'know? What happened to Solo…and why that damned dog hadda find him _now_, of all times. Just when I was ready to let go—."

"You're still ready," Quatre assured him. "Even if he didn't leave, Solo's still gone. And now you know he won't be back. So you don't have to worry that finding someone else is somehow going to mean you're giving up on him, or betraying him. You really _are _free to move forward now."

"I know," Duo said with a grimace. "But I wasn't kidding before—about Heero an' Trowa. There were only two bedrooms, and I was in one of them. They shared the other."

"So? Maybe they're bunking together until the house is finished," Quatre said with a hint of hope.

Duo shook his head dubiously.

"And since we're on the subject, does this mean you want to move forward—with Heero?"

Duo shrugged. "Not if he's a two-timing bastard."

"You don't know that. Why not reserve judgment until you find out for sure?"

"Because I don't think I can risk it," Duo said flatly. "If I let myself hope—." His voice trailed off and he closed his eyes. "I can't."

"Well even if Heero's not the one," Quatre pushed. "There will be someone. And there's nothing to hold you back when you find them."

"Just the memories," Duo sighed.

Quatre gave a frustrated huff, figuring he'd taken the discussion about as far as he dared right then. "So, deal with the memories," he suggested, pulling away and tucking the blankets around Duo, who seemed to be relaxing and getting drowsy since he'd had a decent meal. "And after that, we're gonna find you the best guy in the world, and I'm gonna see that smile back on your face—for good this time."

A faint flicker of that smile ghosted across Duo's lips as his eyes fluttered shut. "For you, Quat, anything," he mumbled, snuggling down into his pillows and drifting off.

The blonde left the door open as he tiptoed out of the room, so he could peek in from time to time without disturbing Duo. He was just on his way to mute the phone so it wouldn't wake him if it rang, when it rang.

He picked it up quickly. "Hello?"

"Hi, Quatre; it's Trowa."

"Hi!" he replied, unable to keep the eagerness out of his voice.

"I thought I'd call and check that Duo got home okay," Trowa continued.

"Yeah, he did."

"How's he doing?"

"Not great. But I got him to eat, and now he's sleeping. I think when he wakes up, he'll be in better shape."

"Well, sounds like he's in good hands." There was a momentary pause, and Quatre could actually hear the deep breath Trowa took. "I also wanted to thank you for looking at the journals. I thought maybe I could buy you lunch somewhere."

A grin spread across Quatre's face, even as he had to say, "You don't have to. I was happy to help."

"But I _want _to," Trowa insisted.

"Oh." Quatre's smile widened still more. "Okay then. When would you like to get together? I close the office for two hours for lunch; so as long as we're not going far, we could do it any day."

"Tomorrow? Oh, wait, that's Sunday," Trowa sputtered. "How about Monday?"

"That would be fine. Do you want to meet at Sally's diner? It doesn't look like much, but she's got the best food around here, unless we drive a couple of towns over."

Trowa chuckled at that. "There's other towns?" he joked. "Heero and I haven't seen much of anything on our way to my physical therapist."

"Where's that?"

"Summersville."

"Wrong direction. South of here there are a couple of towns just a little bigger than Smoky Hills, and they've got a few eateries."

There was a momentary pause. "How 'bout if you choose? I don't know the area, and I want you to enjoy yourself. I'd like to go where you'd be most comfortable."

Quatre caught a hint of concern, and frowned thoughtfully. He'd picked up on the wary glances Trowa had been darting at the head librarian as she hovered nearby, and it dawned on him that the auburn-haired man was well aware of the bias against gays in the small town.

Although Quatre hadn't dated any women in town, no one had ever outright accused him of being gay. And he had to think for a moment before he decided not to care one way or the other.

"Sally's is fine," he said firmly. "I can introduce you to a few of Duo's and my friends." He fished for a way to say he'd be proud to be seen in the company of such a gorgeous guy, no matter what gossip it might start, but he couldn't come up with the right phrasing.

"I'd like that," Trowa said quickly. "A lot."

Quatre heard an odd noise on the other end of line, followed by a curse and some squawking.

"Shit—I've gotta go. Heero's having some trouble with Zero—damn bird!"

"The screamer?" Quatre asked, recalling Duo's harrowing tale of blood-curdling bird calls.

"The very one," Trowa replied with a laugh. "I'd better rescue him before we have squab for dinner. So I'll pick you up at the post office Monday when you close for lunch?"

"I'll be watching for you."

When he hung up the phone, Quatre let out a yelp of excitement, which he quickly muffled under a hand. He glanced guiltily up the stairs, hoping Duo hadn't heard. And just as quickly, he decided not to mention the call at all. The last thing he needed was to reopen the debate on Trowa and Heero's relationship. He was having lunch with a gorgeous guy on Monday, and that was all he cared about. Besides, he'd make it a point to find out their connection at that time, even if he had to come right out and ask Trowa. He didn't share Duo's belief that there was more to the pair than met the eye, and he wasn't going to blow a chance to determine once and for all if Heero was available. It would be a nice gift to Duo, to be able to tell him the man he was so enthralled by was gay, single, and maybe even interested.

Content with his plans, Quatre set about cleaning up the lunch dishes and continuing the chores without Duo's help. He hoped his roommate slept all afternoon, and into the next morning; he really needed the rest.

* * *

Duo did sleep through the remainder of Saturday, not putting in an appearance until mid-morning on Sunday, when Quatre was at the table reading the paper.

"G'morning," came a gruff, yawning voice, as the braided man shuffled into the kitchen with a bathrobe thrown on over his pajamas and his hair sticking out at odd angles. "You let me sleep with damp hair," he accused.

"You needed the rest."

"Yes, and now I need a blowtorch to get the tangles out," Duo joked, rubbing his eyes and then stealing a piece of toast off Quatre's plate.

"That's cold," Quatre said, without even looking past the paper to see what Duo had done.

"I'll reheat it."

"I mean, it's pretty cold stealing a man's last piece of breakfast toast," Quatre jibed.

He got a chuckle for his effort, and was pleased with himself.

"Well since I stole your breakfast, how 'bout I buy you lunch at Sally's today?" Duo looked up from under his bangs, an apologetic look on his face. "Seein' as you put up with me yesterday."

"That's what friends are for," Quatre said with a shrug. "You don't owe me lunch." He gave a sly smile. "But I'll take it anyway, thanks."

Duo grinned back, as he poured himself a cup of coffee. "I'm gonna go shower and try to condition this mess of hair into submission. How 'bout we do the gutters afterwards, and lunch will be our break time?"

"Sounds perfect," Quatre replied, glad to see some normalcy in his roommate. Not that he didn't expect some more fallout over the news about Solo. But for the moment, Duo seemed to have regained his balance, which was a huge relief.

"Naw—perfect would be a six-week vacation on a beach in Tahiti," Duo quipped, heading out of the room. "But lunch will have to suffice for as close to perfect as we're gonna get today. Back in a flash, buddy!"

He disappeared back up the stairs and Quatre settled back to finish reading the paper.

True to his word, Duo was showered, dressed, and ready to work in record time, and the two men spent the better part of the warm spring morning doing chores around the yard.

By noontime, they were more than ready for a hearty lunch, and decided to walk the short distance to the restaurant and enjoy the pleasant weather.

When they got there, however, it seemed others had gotten the same idea. After pushing through the door, Duo stopped so abruptly just inside that Quatre nearly bumped into his back.

"What gives?" blurted the blonde,

Duo turned to face him, casting a furtive glance over a shoulder. "Dumb and Dumber are here. I don't think I'm hungry any more."

Quatre looked past him to see Otto and Trant at a corner table, talking in low voices. "They aren't even looking up," he pointed out. "C'mon, Duo. Are you going to let those bullies chase us out of our favorite hangout?"

Duo gave his friend a haunted look. "I don't think I can deal with them today," he said quietly. "If they say _anything _about Solo, I'm liable to kill 'em."

"First off, we're the only ones who know," Quatre pointed out.

"Hilde knows; that means _everyone_ knows."

"Do you really think she'd blab something that important around?"

"She told me."

"You were his lover. Of course she told you. But I'm sure the cops asked her to keep quiet. And even if they didn't, I'll bet she understands that this isn't idle gossip she can spread." Quatre caught Duo by both shoulders, looking deeply into his eyes. "She's your friend, Duo. She wouldn't do anything to cause you harm."

"You're right," Duo was forced to admit. He looked over at his two enemies, who were still oblivious to their presence. "But Jesus, Quat—I'm not sure I can handle this—."

"We're going to walk right past them and find a booth," Quatre said with determination. He led the way across the restaurant, his aquamarine gaze focused on the hated pair in a challenging glare.

Only Otto glanced up as they passed, and he immediately looked away, while Trant kept up a quiet, angry-sounding monologue Quatre couldn't quite catch.

"That was odd," Duo mumbled, sliding into a booth across from Quatre. "I can't remember the last time they didn't take a cheap shot when it was available."

"Well maybe they're finally growing up," Quatre snipped, darting a last glance at the two, who were in an even more intense, hushed conversation than before. His blue eyes narrowed as he wondered what had them so deeply engrossed in discussion. "As if they ever had a thought," he added in an undertone.

Duo just snorted at Quatre's suggestion that his enemies had grown up, and picked up his menu. "Did you say you were buyin', Quat? 'Cause maybe I could muster up an appetite after all…"

"As I recall, _you're _buying," Quatre shot back with a smirk. "Wasn't this my reward for the mother hen routine?"

"Ah, so it was." Duo's smile softened. "Dunno what I'd do without you, Quat. You're a true friend."

"So are you," Quatre said warmly. "So are you."


	37. The Usual Suspects

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU, yaoi, swearing, bigotry, some OOC

Pairings: 1X2 eventually, 3X4 also eventually

SMOKY HILLS

_"It was just a petty squabble, but then Aaron shoved me, and I shoved back; the next thing I knew, punches were being thrown. I can't believe it came to that. He was my best friend. All my life I always knew I could count on Aaron. But I had let my jealousy over Annabelle cloud my senses; I'd convinced myself he was my only obstacle in vying for her affections. And when the scuffle took us too close to the falls, and he slipped, I didn't reach out to him. I stood by while his tenuous hold on the mossy rocks slowly failed, and when my conscience roused enough for me to make a lunge to try to grab his outstretched hand, it was too late. I killed my best friend…"_

—_excerpt from a letter by Jacob Barton to his father, Ephraim  
_

Chapter Thirty Seven: The Usual Suspects

By Monday morning, Duo seemed like his old self, grumbling about having to get up and haul his ass to work, cheering up a bit over coffee, and reading the comics he'd missed the previous day.

As usual, Quatre was leaving an hour earlier than his employee, so that he had time to open up the office and sort the mail that the morning truck brought. But on his way out, he stopped to put a caring hand on Duo's shoulder. "Sure you want to work today?" he asked. "I could call Callie."

"Naw, I'm good," Duo shrugged, looking up with an only slightly haggard gaze. "Really. Besides, working will keep me busy—keep my mind occupied."

"I suppose it will," Quatre agreed.

"I wonder, though," Duo mused, absently smoothing the paper. "Heero heard from Chang on Friday. Y'think the local shitheads will know by now?"

"Probably. Why?" Quatre asked, beginning to smirk. "You want to go say you told them so?"

"Well, yeah. I filed that missing persons report all those years ago, and they fuckin' laughed at me, when they should've been out looking for Solo." His eyes narrowed as he looked up from the comics page. "Maybe he'd still be alive if they'd done their job."

Quatre grimaced, envisioning Duo going toe to toe with the local police over their incompetence. Even though the braided man was completely in the right, he was liable to bite off more than he could chew.

"I'll talk to my sister about a wrongful death lawsuit," he offered, hoping to calm his volatile roommate. "If the forensic people determine that there might have been a window of opportunity to save him—well, who knows?"

He didn't hold out much hope. The incident had happened so long ago that they'd be lucky to determine cause of death, let alone whether Solo had been abducted for a period of time beforehand.

Duo's thoughts must have followed the same track, because he gave a sad smile and shook his head. "You an' I both know there won't be a way to prove that shit. But thanks for the thought." He shrugged and looked back at his paper. "I'll just have to take satisfaction in reminding Ralph over an' over how useless their whole department is."

Quatre breathed a quiet sigh, relieved that Duo wasn't planning anything over the top. Clearly he was thinking much more calmly now. "I'll help you," he promised. "See you in a bit."

Duo nodded, and Quatre headed out the door, pausing to take a deep breath of the cool morning air, which was laden with earthy smells. This was his favorite time of year—mid-Spring, when everything was bursting into life, and the days were getting longer and warmer. He looked forward to long walks and plenty of outdoor activities. And he was also hoping to have a chance to share some of that with Trowa, once he determined the other man's intentions.

He still hadn't mentioned the lunch to Duo, figuring he'd tell him when the time came—or when Trowa arrived to pick him up. At that point, maybe it would be just as well to let Duo confront Trowa, if he decided the auburn-haired man was cheating on Heero. That would give Trowa a chance to come right out and tell them what sort of relationship existed between him and Heero—and hopefully, to set Duo's fears to rest.

Quatre got into his car and was about to start the engine when a police cruiser pulled in behind him, and Ralph and Alex got out.

He opened his door and went to meet them by the gate. "What's going on?"

"Maxwell home?" Ralph asked, jerking a thumb towards the door.

"Yes—he's getting ready for work." Quatre crossed his arms, fixing a stern look on Ralph. "If you've come to tell him about Solo, he already knows—."

Alex gave a sharp, derisive laugh. "I'll bet he does!"

Ralph elbowed his partner into silence and looked somberly at Quatre. "We're here to take Maxwell down to the station to answer some questions."

"Questions? As in—?" Quatre's eyes widened and his jaw dropped. "I hope you're not suggesting what I think you are—!"

"What?" sneered Alex. "That Maxwell killed Stevens and dumped the body on the Barton place? Seems pretty obvious to me."

"Alex!" Ralph cautioned sharply. He turned to meet Quatre's accusing glare. "It's the Chief's orders. He told us to start with Maxwell because he was closest to Stevens."

"He was also the one who filed the missing persons report."

"Yeah, and a nice bit of diversion _that _was," Alex piped up.

Quatre's eyes blazed with anger. "Duo was also the one who lost the most when Solo went missing! He _loved _him, you narrow-minded twit!"

"Wouldn't be the first time someone killed their lover," Alex retorted.

Quatre rolled his eyes. "Get your head out of your ass, Brown! You've known Duo for _how _long? You know he's not capable of murder. I've only been around a few years and I know that."

In the midst of their bickering, Duo stepped out onto the porch, and Ralph quickly stepped up to intercept him. "Maxwell—you need to come with Alex and me. The Chief has some questions about the last time you saw Stevens."

Duo hesitated, casting a questioning glance at Quatre—whose tight jaw and angry glare told the whole story—and then looking back at Ralph. "Am I under arrest?"

"Not yet," Ralph said with a shrug. "And if you come along quietly, we won't bother with handcuffs or anything."

Duo's face darkened at the implied threat. "I'm on my way to work, Ralph. This can wait until after I deliver the route." He turned as if to walk past them towards his Jeep.

"Told ya he'd put up a fuss," Alex said triumphantly, reaching for his set of handcuffs.

"Can it, Al!" Ralph snapped. "Don't be difficult, Maxwell. Just get in the squad car."

"He's not going anywhere with you until I talk to a lawyer!" Quatre insisted, pulling out his cell phone.

Alex turned his attention to the blonde. "You can't stop us from taking him, Winner. Call all the lawyers you like, but he's still coming downtown!" He grabbed Duo's arm in a bruising grip, and the mailman jerked free, turning as if to fight—at which point Ralph caught one of his wrists and slapped on a handcuff, sharply twisting the limb up behind his back and pushing him against the wall of the house.

"You know better, Duo," he chided. "Resisting arrest?" He smoothly hooked up the second cuff, locking Duo's arms behind his back.

"Thought you weren't arresting me—," Duo sneered.

"Brown grabbed him first!" Quatre blurted angrily. "There was no need—!"

"You wanna end up in the cell beside his?" Ralph warned. "Just keep yapping. Otherwise, let us do our job."

"Your job doesn't include bullying people, and—."

Duo's voice cut him off. "Stop, Quat! Just—let it alone." The braided man was pinned against the clapboard siding, his breathing still strained from the scuffle. "They've got nothing," he muttered. "So I spend the morning answering their lame questions. It's no big deal."

"Yes, it is!" Quatre said hotly. "They have no reason to keep you from work; you could just as easily stop at the station on your way home. They're just misusing their authority—as usual!"

"One more word," Ralph cautioned, "and I'll arrest you for obstruction."

Duo shook his head. "Please, Quat! Just go to work. Call Callie to do my route, an' I'll be home before supper." He met the blonde's eyes as best he could, pressed against the wall. "Don't get into trouble for me. There's no need. I'll be fine."

Ralph eased the pressure on Duo's back, and the braided man straightened, squaring his shoulders. "Not like it's the first time I've ever been in jail." He jerked free of Ralph's hand on his wrist, and pushed past Alex, walking calmly down the steps and over to the squad car.

While Alex was busy opening the door and settling Duo in the back seat, Quatre turned a heated look on Ralph. "Expect Duo's lawyer to be there shortly." He walked over to the cruiser before Alex could close the door. "Don't answer any questions until I get a lawyer for you."

Duo looked up and shook his head. "Don't be melodramatic, Quat. And don't waste your money. I don't need a lawyer. I didn't kill Solo, and these bozos know it. They're just overcompensating for the fact that they fucked up the missing persons case eight years ago. We could've found Solo that much sooner, while we had half a chance of catching the murderer." He darted a glance at Alex, while still addressing his roommate. "Let 'em pretend to be real cops. It don't mean shit."

Quatre frowned with concern. "You should have legal representation, Duo."

"Why? You think I'll admit to anything they can use against me?" Duo mustered a cocky smirk, a dangerous gleam in the indigo eyes. "Not a chance in Hell, buddy. You go get the office opened up before you end up in trouble. I'll be home in time for lunch."

Reluctantly Quatre stepped back, allowing Alex to close the door. Ralph went around to the driver's side and got in, while Alex took the passenger seat, and they drove off leaving a very perturbed postmaster in their wake.

"Unbelievable!" he blurted in frustration, clenching his fists so tightly his nails almost cut into the palms of his hands. "The _gall _of them! Making a victim into their scapegoat!"

With a Herculean effort, he shook of his anger and glanced at his watch, realizing he'd have to hurry to be at the office on time.

"This isn't over," he ground out between clenched teeth as he jogged back to his car and hopped in. "He may not want a lawyer—but he's getting one!"

He quickly started up the car and headed for work, deciding along the way that if he didn't hear from Duo by the time he closed the office for lunch, he'd go straight home and start calling his sister's office. At the very least, she could probably put in a call to the Smoky Hills police and convince them to cut Duo loose until she, or someone she appointed from her firm, could get there to act as his legal representative—if it came to that.

Quatre didn't think it would go that far—that they'd actually try to charge Duo in Solo's death. But he was troubled that they'd even taken him in for questioning. Surely after all the years they'd known him, they couldn't truly believe he was capable of murder—could they?

Quatre didn't believe it—not for a minute.

Despite Duo's temper, the blonde was quite certain he could never kill someone. Even accidentally. And he was furious that Ralph and Alex, who'd more or less grown up with Duo, could act like they thought he had.

"Assholes."

He scowled as he drove, his mind wandering back to the day he and Duo had come back from camping. He remembered Duo's reluctance to seek out the location of the skeleton that day, and how he'd attributed it to Duo's superstitious nature, when it came to Smoky Hills. But when it crossed his mind now, for a moment, he found himself wondering if it was something else entirely that made Duo want to avoid the place.

_Afraid to revisit the scene of the crime?_

Quatre snorted skeptically. "I've got to stop letting Duo's ghost stories get to me. Ralph and Alex might be idiots, but I'm not."

He supposed if someone wanted to be the suspicious type, they might analyze Duo's recent behavior to find guilt in his actions. But he was Duo's friend, and he wasn't even going to go down that road.

First off, if Duo had killed Solo, he wouldn't have fallen apart at the news of his death; he'd have known the minute they found the skeleton that it was Solo. He sure as hell wouldn't have gone to Heero looking for confirmation.

Secondly, Duo's breakdown over the weekend was a clear indicator of pain and grief. He was broken-hearted over the news of Solo's death, and there was just no way he could have faked that reaction.

The image of Duo sobbing in the shower, clutching the little gold cross around his neck superimposed itself over the road in front of Quatre for a moment. And even as his breath caught in sympathy, he remembered Duo saying he'd given it to Solo.

_Had Solo given it back at some point—maybe when they started dating? If not, how did it end up around Duo's neck?_

Quatre stopped that train of thought before he could imagine Duo taking it off a dead body. He seriously needed to stop channeling Duo's vivid imagination. There was a simple explanation for how Duo had the cross back, and Quatre could ask him the next time he saw him.

"I'm losing my mind," he sighed as he pulled into the post office and parked his car. He closed his eyes, trying to regain his composure. "I know Duo. I know him better than anyone. And little bullshit inconsistencies aside, there's no way he could've killed Solo. He'd have to be totally insane to have done something like that, and then moped for years about the guy having walked out on him. Even Duo's not _that _good of an actor."

_Welcome to Smoky Hills, land of weirdness.

* * *

_

Having barely arrived at work on time, Quatre soon found himself overwhelmed with the usual load of Monday mail, and he was so busy calling Callie and dumping and sorting catalogs and parcels that he barely had a moment to blink, until it was almost noon.

Callie had made it into the office quickly, once he reached her, and she was packing up to take the mail out on the route by the time Quatre closed up the office for lunch. But even as he locked the door, he suddenly recalled his date with Trowa. And if that hadn't been enough to jog his memory, finding Trowa waiting out back, his car parked beside Quatre's, would have done the job.

"Oh my God! I almost forgot!" he admitted, rushing over to the tall brunet, who'd straightened and smiled the moment he stepped outside.

Trowa blinked at him, a flicker of disappointment crossing the handsome face.

Quatre impulsively reached out and caught his hand. "Not that I wasn't looking forward to lunch together—," he said hastily. "But this morning was so chaotic—and with Duo in jail and having to call Callie—."

"Whoa! Wait a sec," Trowa cut in, taking _both _of Quatre's hands in his and giving a little squeeze to get his attention. "What do you mean, Duo's in jail?"

"Ralph and Alex came this morning and took him in for questioning," Quatre said with a scowl. "Idiots! They think he had something to do with Solo's death."

"Duo?" Trowa echoed incredulously. "The guy who just about decked Heero for even implying he'd be a suspect?" He shook his head. "No way. I don't know Duo that well, but he's way too nice to be a murderer."

Quatre smiled up at him, breathing a sigh of relief. "Thanks," he said warmly.

Trowa raised an eyebrow and smirked. "For what?"

"For believing in Duo." Quatre gave a little shrug. "Sometimes it seems like I'm the only one who does."

"You aren't," Trowa assured him. "For what it's worth, Heero and I do, too."

Quatre realized they were standing in plain sight of the road holding hands, and reluctantly disentangled them, tucking his in his pockets self-consciously. "Um—I kind of have to make some phone calls during my lunch break. Long distance, so I couldn't do it from work." He looked up shyly. "Could we take a rain check on lunch?"

"Of course," Trowa agreed, squelching his disappointment by basking in the grateful look that graced Quatre's face. "Is there something I can do to help?"

Quatre smiled charmingly. "Just being so understanding is a big help. Duo's my best friend, and I really need to look out for him."

"It's easy to understand. I'd do the same for Heero."

The blonde resisted the urge to grin like an idiot. Trowa and Heero were best friends. Not lovers. Not a couple. Or Trowa wouldn't be here being sweet and supportive, and completely understanding the need to have a friend's back in a tight spot.

Trowa cocked his head to one side, as if deep in thought. "You think you'll have time to eat, in between phone calls?"

"I can throw something together I suppose. I'll probably be on hold most of the time. My sister's law office is usually pretty busy—."

Trowa frowned in concern. "Duo needs a lawyer? They're _that _serious about making him a suspect?"

"I'm—not sure," Quatre admitted. "Duo told me not to bother with a lawyer. He said he could handle them. But I haven't heard from him, and I'm worried."

"Look," Trowa said soothingly. "Why don't you go home and call your sister—let her calm your fears? She'll probably tell you there's nothing to worry about. Meanwhile, I'll go to Howie's and pick you up something for lunch. I can drop it by your house, or bring it here for when you get back from your break."

"You'd do that?"

Trowa smiled warmly. "In a heartbeat. It's not as nice as it would've been to spend time with you—but at least I can make sure you get fed."

"That's really sweet," Quatre replied. He glanced down at his watch. "I get back right at two-thirty, if you're sure it's not too much trouble—?"

"Not at all. What can I get for you?"

"I really like Hilde's chicken salad sandwiches," Quatre told him.

"And something to drink?" asked the auburn-haired man, his tone a bit teasing.

"Green tea with a little bit of honey."

"Dessert?" Trowa offered, letting his voice slip a bit lower as if to suggest something a bit decadent.

"Maybe one of those little yogurt cups with the fruit and crunchy stuff on top?"

"You got it," Trowa said with a smile.

"Thank you _so _much," Quatre sighed. "You don't know how much I appreciate this."

"Hey—you helped me with the journals. Bringing you a little sustenance when you're having a family crisis is the least I can do—."

"Yes, but all I was able to tell you was that the water-soaked pages are beyond my skills," Quatre said with a frown. "I put in a call to my friend Rashid—the one who works at the museum—but then all this with Duo came up, and I haven't followed through on it."

"There's no hurry. The journals aren't going anywhere. I'm just hoping there might be a clue in them about the murder—maybe that Dekim saw something unusual he made note of. And even if there's not, I'm curious about my ancestors and the history of the farm."

"Me, too," Quatre assured him. "And as soon as we get things back on track for Duo, I'm going to set up that meeting with Rashid, so we can find out how much he can recover from your books."

"Speaking of Duo—." Trowa reached out and tapped the watch face Quatre had looked at. "Don't you have calls to make?"

"Oh, yes!" Quatre smiled shyly. "Guess I'm enjoying talking to you too much."

"Likewise. See you in a couple of hours?"

"Yes. And thanks!"

They parted company, and Quatre practically hummed along with the radio as he drove home. He felt much less alone all of a sudden, and it made all the difference in the world.

* * *

Heero frowned into the empty mailbox, thinking it odd that Duo hadn't been by there already. Usually he was much earlier than this, and even on bad days, he never came after four—except that one time he'd had a flat tire.

He checked his watch again. "Four-fifteen?" His hand dropped to Thor's head and idly scratched the shaggy brow. "Your biscuit buddy's late," he noted.

The dog wagged his tail slowly, and sniffed at the bushes.

Heero looked up and down the narrow road, and listened for the rather noisy engine of the Jeep, but heard only the faint breeze rustling through the leaves, and the twitter of some birds. Then he gave a frustrated huff, trying to decide if his disappointment was from not having the mail on time, or not getting a chance to see the good-looking mailman.

Thor nudged his elbow.

"Yeah, you're right. I'm an impossible sap, aren't I?" Heero sighed. "Yes, I was hoping to see him. There, I admitted it! Happy?"

He turned back towards the house, figuring he could get the mail on his way out to do the grocery shopping—assuming Trowa ever got back from his lunch date.

"He's late, too," he told the shaggy dog. "I could've sworn he said something about a two-hour lunch break." He rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Unless he sweet-talked Quatre into taking the afternoon off—."

_That'd be just like him, the lucky bastard._

Just then, Thor let out a welcoming bark and tugged on the leash, pulling him back towards the mailbox.

An unfamiliar truck was chugging up the road, and when it stopped at the end of the driveway, Heero frowned, walking closer.

"Oh, hello!" said the driver, a young brown-haired woman.

"Where's Duo?" Heero asked, mentally cringing right afterwards. It sounded so accusing—as if he were blaming the girl for not being his regular letter carrier.

She made a slight face. "He—he's off today."

Heero frowned at her evasive tone. "Is he sick?" he pressed, wondering if Duo was still reacting to the news of Solo's death.

"Not—exactly." She handed Heero the mail, and then lowered her voice as if they might be overheard. "The police came for him this morning, and Mister Winner had to call me in to cover the route. I'm the substitute carrier."

"The police?"

"Yes. Quatre seemed pretty concerned when I got there." She gave a little shrug. "I'm not sure what Duo was arrested for, but the boss asked if I'd be available tomorrow too—just in case."

"Fuck." Heero nearly clapped a hand over his own mouth, shocked that he'd blurted that out.

But the girl didn't seem to have heard. Instead, she prattled blithely on. "I offered to work the whole week, if Duo's in real trouble. I'd heard something about there being some sort of investigation up this way—something about a skeleton someone found—but I never imagined it'd involve _him_. I mean, he's cute and all, if kind of an airhead; but I never thought he was capable of murder—."

"Who said anything about a murder?" Heero demanded.

"Oh, nobody really. I just overheard a rumor at the coffee shop."

Heero scowled so darkly the girl blinked in surprise. "I'd suggest you not repeat those kinds of rumors," he said icily. "They rarely turn out to be true, and they make you sound rather foolish. Good day."

He turned on his heel and gave a firm yank on the leash, bringing Thor trotting after him.

Goddamnit! Duo was in serious trouble now, and Heero was sorry he hadn't immediately stepped into the investigation. When he'd gone over the missing persons report a couple more times, it had seemed fairly evident that Duo wasn't the killer. The officer who'd taken the statement made derogatory notes about how distraught he'd been. Plus, he'd been all of fifteen at the time. Heero didn't know many fifteen-year-olds who had the sheer balls to kill a lover, hide the body, and then play the part of an abandoned and confused boyfriend.

Not that it wasn't an outside possibility. There were plenty of seriously deranged murderers out there who'd started at an early age. But all of Heero's instincts told him Duo wasn't that type.

_If he could trust his instincts any more._

Those same instincts had sent him running down that alley the night the little girl died.

"Fucking Hell!" Heero spat, breaking into a steady jog towards the house, wanting to get Thor home and drive down to the police station before he talked himself out of helping Duo. As Chang had said, he had to stop second-guessing every move he made. He was a damned good detective, and he had to remember that, and learn to trust his abilities again.

By the time Trowa pulled into the driveway, a mere fifteen minutes later, Heero had spoken to Une and was standing on the porch rocking from his heels to his toes and back again, fuming with impatience.

"What kept you?" he growled, stalking down the walkway to meet his brother. "I expected you home by three."

"I would've been, but we had a change of plans."

"It's _four-thirty_!" Heero snapped. "You should have called."

"Well, I tried—but you didn't answer the house phone, and I didn't even try the cell, knowing the reception is crap out here—."

"Next time leave a message!" came a sharp response.

Trowa looked at him in surprise. "Were you _worried_? Jeeze, I didn't know I had a curfew—."

"You don't. I need the car," Heero said curtly, holding out a hand for the keys.

"Where's the fire?" Trowa asked, dropping them into the waiting palm.

"At the Smoky Hills police station," Heero replied, sliding behind the wheel.

Trowa's face lit up with realization. "How'd you hear about Duo?"

"His substitute letter carrier has a big mouth."

"So does his boss—not that I'm complaining. I got to play the knight in shining armor and bring him lunch at the office. That's why I'm late—. Hey!" Trowa stepped hastily back as Heero slammed the car door and turned on the engine. "Does this mean you're taking over the investigation?"

"If that's what it takes to get Duo out of jail—yes." Heero threw the car into gear and headed down the driveway, leaving Trowa standing with a bemused expression on his face.

"Well—guess I'll just go rest my knee a bit, shall I?" he asked no one in particular, realizing that all the running around actually had made it a bit sore. He shook his head. "Why do I get the feeling things are finally going to get interesting around here?"


	38. Saving the Day—er Duo

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU, yaoi, swearing, bigotry, some OOC

Pairings: 1X2 eventually, 3X4 also eventually

SMOKY HILLS

"_I don't know what I'll tell young Samuel about his father. Do I reveal the whole truth_—_that Jacob allowed his friend to die, out of jealousy and desire? That's not strictly true. From all I've read of Jacob's letters, and the journal he left behind among his belongings, he would have wished Aaron and Annabelle happiness together, had things gone differently. Aaron's death was an accident, even if Jacob felt he was to blame. I can picture the two hot-headed young men arguing and having a scuffle, and from what I know of the falls, once Aaron slipped he was doomed, even if Jacob hadn't hesitated. I doubt he could have pulled him back up on such a slippery surface. If only he'd talked to me, instead of running away…"_

—_excerpt from the private journal of Ephraim Barton_

Chapter Thirty Eight: Saving the Day—er Duo

Duo sighed, sipping from the styrofoam cup of coffee, and looking wearily across the table at the cop he'd known since they were both in grade school. "Again, Ralph? Seriously?"

The other man scowled. "Yes, seriously. From the beginning, Duo."

They'd been at this game the entire day—Ralph asking pointed questions about what Duo remembered from the day Solo disappeared, and Duo rolling his eyes in exasperation and dredging up the painful memories. He'd alternated between irritation and outright anger, especially when around mid-morning, Ralph threw him in the holding cell while he and Alex responded to a motor vehicle accident. He'd returned three hours later, having taken his lunch break on the way back to the station.

"You could've at least brought me a freakin' doughnut," Duo said for perhaps the tenth time since Ralph's return.

"Quit yer bitchin'," Ralph growled. "You're lucky to have that cup of coffee."

Duo's fingers clutched the cup possessively. "You're lucky I'm still awake," he retorted. "And a decent meal would go a long way towards gaining my cooperation."

"Tell me what I want to know, and you'll get a meal," Ralph shot back. "The sooner you come clean about what happened, the better."

"Jesus," Duo muttered. "Okay." He thought back again, remembering his last conversation with Solo, and feeling the familiar stab of pain in the vicinity of his heart. "Like I told you at least ten times already, I was working at Howie's, and Solo came in to get a soda and some snacks. We talked a little bit, he bought his stuff, and he left. That was the last time I saw him."

Ralph looked up with narrowed eyes. "What did you two talk about?"

"The usual shit."

"And what might that be?"

"How the fuck should I know? It was nearly eight years ago, Ralph!"

"You can't remember what you talked about in your very _last _conversation? Try again, Maxwell."

Duo rolled his eyes theatrically. "What difference does it make?"

"A lot."

"For chrissakes—." Duo downed the rest of his coffee and plunked the cup down, crossing his arms on the table and glaring at Ralph. "We talked about Gunderson layin' Solo off, and what he was gonna do about rent money, and how long it was till my graduation so we could leave this fucked up town."

"Didn't you leave a bit out, Maxwell?"

Duo's glare intensified. "No. That about covers it."

"What about the part where you guys got into a shouting match and you told him to drop dead?"

Duo winced at the memory of his last words to Solo. "Thanks for bringing _that_ up, dickhead," he drawled snidely, covering his pain with attitude. "Who told you we argued?"

"Howard did. Back when Stevens disappeared and you filed that missing persons report. He said you two had a lovers' spat." Ralph put just enough emphasis on the word "lovers" to convey his disgust quite clearly. "What was it about?"

"The same old shit," Duo shrugged. "Solo was talking about getting out of this dead end town, and I didn't feel like discussing it. Simple as that."

Ralph shook his head. "Wanna try again? The officer who interviewed Howard wrote down—." He paused to look over the paper in his hand. "Stevens said 'What do you want from me?' and _y__ou _said 'just go ahead and leave.' And the you followed it up with 'drop dead,' or words to that effect. That ring any bells, Maxwell?"

Duo rolled his eyes, recalling the argument all too well.

"_You lost your job?"_

"_Yeah—Gunderson can't afford hired help any more. His sons are going to pick up the slack." Solo fixed a troubled look on his boyfriend. "How am I supposed to pay for the apartment? Food? Gas?"_

_Duo walked around the counter, glancing to be sure they were alone before wrapping his arms around Solo's waist. "We'll figure something out."_

_Solo shook his head, refusing to be soothed by either his boyfriend's words, or the warm embrace. "Figure what out, Duo?"_

"_You'll find another job—."_

"_Where?" Solo demanded with a scowl. "There are no jobs in this dead-end town!"_

"_You—could have mine," Duo offered, gesturing around them at the convenience store. "I don't need it. I've got room and board at the orphanage. Father Maxwell doesn't care if I work or not—."_

"_I don't want your goddamned job!" Solo blurted, pulling free and glaring at Duo. "I want something that's not crap—like everything in this fucking town!"_

"_It wouldn't be forever," Duo retorted. "Just until you find something better—."_

"_There is nothing better! Not in Smoky Hills!"_

"_What about the lumber yard?" Duo asked carefully, knowing it was liable to set Solo off even worse._

"_I'm not beggin' Otto's smug-assed father for a job," Solo snapped. "I'm sick to death of stuck-up snobs like him." He paced restlessly across the floor, fists clenched at his sides. "I need to get the fuck out of this town, Duo. We'll never have a future here—."_

"_I know that," Duo agreed. "But I've got two more years of school, and since I'm a ward of the State, I don't have a choice about where they stick me."_

"_I can't stay in this shithole for two more years," Solo growled in exasperation, running his hands through his shaggy bangs._

"_I won't be eighteen until—."_

"_I know that!" Solo practically yelled at him, his face taut with anger and frustration._

"_So—what?" Duo demanded, his eyes glittering with his own brand of anger. "You're gonna go without me? Is that it?"_

"_No!" Solo insisted. Then he paused and frowned. "Maybe. I don't know!"_

"_Which is it?" Duo snarled. "Yes or no, Solo?" He took a step closer, hands on his hips. "All that talk about us leaving together—. Was that just bullshit so you could talk me into sex?"_

_Solo tossed his head, snorting wryly. "Obviously not—since we haven't had any, have we?"_

_The blush in Duo's cheeks might have been anger or embarrassment. But either way, he didn't take the sarcasm well. And when Howard came striding out of the storage room to see what the raised voices were about, the braided boy's temper flared, and Solo was the unlucky recipient._

"_Nice t'know that's how you feel about it," Duo retorted. "Jesus, Solo—you said you'd wait—that you didn't want to rush me. Now you're sayin' it's not worth sticking around here, since you can't fuck me—."_

"_That's not what I said," Solo replied quickly. "It has nothing to do with you—."_

"_It has everything to do with me!" Duo argued. "You're talking about leaving when you know damned well that I can't!"_

"_Fuck, Duo. What do you want from me?" Solo snapped. "Y'want me to crawl to Otto's dad begging for a job, and work in the goddamned lumber yard until you graduate? Fine! Have it your way! I'll fucking do it, if that'll prove I meant what I said about you—about us."_

"_Yeah?" Duo asked snidely. "And then you'll bitch about it bein' my fault we're stuck here. Every time we disagree about something, you'll throw it in my face—what you had to do for my sake. Well, fuck you, Solo! Just go ahead and leave, why don't you? And while you're at it—drop dead!"_

_Duo stormed past Howard into the stock room, slamming and locking the door behind himself, while Solo went the opposite way, out the front door of the convenience store, and out to his car that was parked at the curb._

Recalling that moment now, Duo wished for the millionth time he could take back his unkind words. But Solo had been so eager to leave, and Duo had felt trapped in the system—too young to even drop out of school and go with him. Hearing Solo go on about getting out of town had made him feel like maybe his lover wanted to escape _him _as well as the intolerance in the small, close knit community. So he'd blown up at him, accusing him of that very thing.

In point of fact, it was no worse than previous spats they'd had, and at the time Duo hadn't thought much of it—until a day passed without Solo calling him or stopping by to make up. He'd begun trying to track down his missing lover, only to find he'd simply vanished. And when he'd jimmied the lock on Solo's apartment door and found that none of his belongings were missing, he'd gone straight to the police, certain that something was seriously wrong.

They'd pretty much laughed him out of the station; but they weren't laughing this time.

"What's your point, Ralph?" Duo asked flatly.

"You were the last one to see Stevens alive, Maxwell. And you two had a fight." Ralph looked insufferably smug. "I'm guessing the fight didn't end at Howard's place. You went and found Solo and continued it, didn't you? Only maybe you did more than just yell at him—."

Duo was on his feet at that, hands flat on the table as he leaned menacingly across. "Shut your fuckin' mouth, Ralph! You know damned well I didn't kill Solo!"

"I don't know nuthin' of the sort!" Ralph snapped in response, standing and matching the aggressive stance. "I know you've got a temper, though; whole town knows about _that_! When you drove your old pickup truck over the statue of the town's founding fathers, you pretty much proved you're capable of violence."

"That wasn't violence," Duo scoffed. "That was payback. When there was a fire at the orphanage, the penny-pinching town government wouldn't even shell out a nickel towards rebuilding! Said it was up to the church to provide the financial backing—an' now there's no more orphanage at all!"

"Who'd want one, if _you're _an example of the kind of kid they raise?"

Just as Duo was about to launch himself across the table, there was a quiet knock on the door, and Heero stuck his head in. "Excuse me," he said politely, though the stone cold expression on his face suggested he wanted to be anything _but _polite. "There was no one at the desk."

Ralph scowled at him. "This is a small town. Our receptionist only works part time, and Alex is out on patrol. You'll have to come back later."

"Actually," Heero continued, crossing his arms and regarding the officer coldly. "I was looking for you. I believe you're the officer investigating the remains found on my property?"

"Yes, but I'm kinda busy with a murder suspect here—so if you don't mind coming back—."

Heero raised an eyebrow. "A suspect? How could you have a suspect when you haven't even gotten a full report on the cause of death?"

The officer snorted rudely. "Look. You ain't from around here, so just butt out. Maxwell's the last one who saw Stevens alive, and since your big-shot Mister Chang classified it as a homicide, I can't think of a better suspect."

"_Doctor _Chang actually classified it as a suspicious death. Until he's determined a definite cause, I think it's a bit premature to begin interviewing people of interest."

Duo wanted to smile at the handsome Japanese man, grateful he hadn't used the word "suspects," but he figured Ralph would get the wrong idea.

"And what would you know about it?" Ralph demanded.

Heero held out a badge, looking decidedly smug. "I'm head of the Homicide Department in the Sanc District. And I'll be handling this investigation from here on out."

"The hell you say!" Ralph blurted, stalking over to snatch the badge from Heero's hand and examine it. He looked up with a deadly glare. "Since when are you a cop?"

"Detective," Heero corrected him with a patronizing smirk, taking back his badge and tucking it into his hip pocket. "And how long I've been on the job is irrelevant. My boss has spoken to your boss, and he's ceded jurisdiction, since your town hasn't got the resources to conduct an in-depth investigation of a cold case."

Ralph looked a bit puzzled.

"Should I use smaller words?" Heero asked scathingly.

Duo couldn't help it. He snickered at that, quickly muffling it under a hand, and pretending to yawn. "We finished here, Ralph?" he asked innocently.

"No, we're not finished!" Ralph snapped, glaring at him.

"Yes, you are," Heero contradicted him. "This is my case now, and I'll be the one conducting interviews. All I'll need from you from now on is the use of this interrogation room as a place to meet with the interviewees. I'll try to let you know in advance when I'll be using it."

"Hey, you can't just commandeer our police station—!" Ralph protested.

"I beg to differ," Heero retorted. "I can use any local resources I require. Talk to your Chief Tsubarov, and I'm sure he'll spell it out for you."

"I _will _talk to him," Ralph grumbled. "I'm not gonna take your word for any of this."

Heero just shook his head and rolled his eyes. He opened the door wider and gestured to Duo. "Need a ride home?"

Duo blinked in surprise and then nodded, even as Ralph tried one last time to assert his authority.

"You can't just cut Maxwell loose like this. The Chief was the one who told Alex an' me to start our investigation by talking to him."

"_Talking_, Ralph?" Duo sneered. "It sounded a lot more like _accusing_ to me."

"Well if the accusation fits—."

"Officer Kurt!" Heero cut in sharply. "Duo's leaving now. With me." He held out a hand. "I'll take the file on the Stevens case, too, while I'm at it."

Ralph reluctantly handed over the folder, his jaw set with anger. "If yer such a hotshot detective, why didn't you mention it when you brought that first bone in?"

"I was trying not to be pushy—at the time. But from now on—." Heero tucked the folder under an arm, and pointedly held the door open for Duo, who smirked defiantly at Ralph and strutted out into the hallway like he owned the place.

* * *

The moment they stepped out onto the sidewalk, Duo turned to face Heero, hands on his hips.

_Here it comes, Heero thought._

"You're a cop?" he demanded accusingly.

Heero met the angry gaze and nodded. "A detective, actually."

"And you didn't think to tell me that before?"

"When? We've hardly spoken," Heero pointed out.

"I asked you that day at the mailbox if you were one of the forensic guys, and you said you'd worked with Chang."

"I did," Heero said with a shrug.

"The way you answered _implied_ that you worked in forensics," Duo noted, pride in using what he considered a "Quatre" word seeping into his righteous indignation over Heero's omission.

Heero sighed, looking down at his feet so that his chocolate mop of hair obscured his face. "Technically," he said quietly, "I wasn't a cop when you asked. I was on leave."

"Being an off-duty cop's no different!" Duo growled.

"Yes, it is," Heero said firmly. "But if you're determined to hate me because of what I do for work—."

Duo blinked at the almost sad look that peeped from under the thick bangs. "I don't hate you," he said quickly. "I just hate being lied to—and it seems like you lied."

"I didn't feel I had much of a choice," Heero told him, gaining confidence at Duo's proclamation. "It was pretty obvious that day at Howie's that you're not a huge fan of authority figures. I didn't want you to judge me by that before you got to know me."

"I wouldn't—." Duo stopped, realizing he might have done just that. If he'd known from the beginning that Heero was a cop, he'd have looked at him differently.

And now that he knew the truth, he was surprised he and Quatre hadn't figured it out anyway. Knowing how authoritative and bold Heero could be, they should've guessed he'd had a job with some power attached to it.

"Gonna give me a chance?" Heero asked, looking straight at him now. "Or are you going to assume I'm like the morons back there?" He jerked a thumb over his shoulder at the police station.

"You're not like them!" Duo said hastily. And then it was his turn to look down timidly. "I mean—first off, you took my side. In all my years in Smoky Hills, no one in the police department has ever taken my side—in anything." He looked gratefully at Heero. "Thanks for putting Ralph in his place."

"No problem. He was acting unprofessionally. He needed to be taken down a few pegs."

"Yeah, an' it was fun to watch," Duo asserted, resisting the temptation to throw an arm across Heero's shoulders like he might have with Quatre. "Hey, can I buy you a late lunch or something? Just to thank you for helpin' me out?"

Heero shook his head. "Much as I'd like that, since I'm assigned to this case, I should keep my actions above reproach. It wouldn't do for me to appear less than objective about it."

Duo eyed him warily. "Does that mean you're gonna be the next one to grill me?"

"Not at all." Heero ducked his head, shrugging slightly. "I prefer to _interview _people, rather than interrogate them."

"Still makes me a suspect, doesn't it?" came the rather sour response.

Heero looked squarely at the other man. "I don't for one instant believe you murdered your lover, Duo. Your reaction to the news of his death was far too painful to have been faked. Yes, I'm going to have to interview you, and ask questions that may seem rather prying. But it's all about gathering information—not looking for guilt where none exists."

Duo's jaw dropped a little. "I think that's the longest speech you've ever given me, 'Ro." He gave a warm smile. "One of the nicest, too."

Heero dared a small smile in reply. "Does that mean you won't get annoyed with me if I ask you to come back to the farm and give me as much information about Solo as you possibly can?"

"Hm. I s'pose it'd be okay," Duo conceded. "Any chance I could bum a sandwich off you then? I was serious about lunch. Ralph didn't give me anything but crappy cop coffee all day."

Heero's smile widened at his sudden success. "It's nearly dinner time. You could stay for that, if you like."

Duo smiled back. "Thanks, but Monday's my night to make dinner for me an' Quat. I'll need to do that after I get home. But I could sure use something to tide me over until then."

"In that case, I'm sure Trowa's got something in the fridge you could throw together," Heero assured him.

_And this way I can spend more than five minutes in your company—maybe actually make a little progress in getting you to realize I'm interested—and maybe find out for sure if you are too._

"If you cooperate with my investigation, I might even be persuaded to make that 'late lunch' _for _you," he added.

Duo's grin was bright and genuine. "Then let's get going—before Thor an' Balder beat me to the goods." He practically skipped across the parking lot to Heero's car, sliding in beside the blue-eyed man and beaming at him.

"Buckle up," Heero ordered automatically, slipping the key into the ignition.

"Yes, mom," Duo agreed with a snide smirk.

Heero darted him a quick look, recalling how many times Trowa had said the same thing. "I'm not your mother, Maxwell."

"Good thing, too," Duo said cheekily, gaining confidence at the lack of real heat in the blue eyes.

Heero raised an eyebrow, hoping that meant what he thought it did, and started up the car.

"Hey, you got a cell phone I could use?" Duo asked. "I should call Quat and tell him I'm okay."

Heero pulled his phone from a pocket and passed it over. "Reception's pretty good here, but you better complete the call before we cross the dam, because after that, there's virtually no signal."

"Don't I know it," Duo agreed. "My cell's practically useless, most of the places I go. Dunno why I even bother with it."

He made the call quickly, telling Quatre he was out of jail, headed for the Barton farm to help Heero out for a bit, and that he'd be home to make supper. His boss was busy with customers, so aside from a quick "thank goodness," he didn't have much to say, except that he'd see him later.

When they got to the farmhouse, Heero led the way up the steps and fended off Thor and Balder, who were both eager to greet Duo, expecting their usual dog cookies from the familiar mailman.

"Sorry boys," he told them, scratching both big, shaggy heads. "Didn't bring the Jeep, an' that's where I stash the goods."

Heero smirked as the dogs gave up sniffing every pocket and fold in Duo's clothes and sauntered off to find other entertainment. "They're very mercenary," he commented.

"Like me," Duo grinned. "How 'bout that food you promised?"

"I'll get right on it."

Heero led the way to the kitchen, where Trowa was busily washing the breakfast dishes that had been left soaking earlier. "Hi honey, I'm home," he quipped, straight-faced.

Trowa raised an eyebrow, looking past him at Duo. "And you brought me a present?" he teased.

"Hope you like brunets," came the smooth response, as Heero walked over to the refrigerator. "What would you like to drink, Duo?"

Duo hesitated, a bit surprised by the easy banter from the normally-stoic Japanese man. "Um, soda?"

Heero studied the contents of the icebox, and finally reached for a bottle. "Will iced tea suffice?"

"Sure."

Heero took out two, and passed one to Duo. "Sorry. Neither Trowa nor I drink much soda. Mostly we stick to tea or fruit juices."

"I'll stock up for next time," Trowa offered. Duo's back was to him, so he couldn't see the thumbs up that the auburn-haired man gave Heero. "I'm sure there'll be a 'next time,' right?"

Duo looked at him in surprise, missing the glare Heero shot at his roommate.

"That's up to Duo," Heero said firmly. "He's certainly welcome."

The braided man almost got whiplash, turning back to see Heero holding out a glass for his drink.

"Uh, save the glass," he urged, waving it aside. "I'll drink it outta the bottle and not dirty a dish." He gave a cheeky grin. "I hate washin' dishes."

Heero gave a short nod and set the glass back in the drying rack. "What kind of sandwich would you like?" he asked. "There's some cold meat in the fridge—roast beef and chicken breast I think. Or I could make some tuna salad."

"Whatever's easiest," Duo shrugged. "I'm just starvin' because that louse Ralph kept me at the station so long."

"I'm sorry about that," Heero told him, beginning to pull packages out of the refrigerator and set them next to the loaf of bread on the counter. "If I'd known, I'd have come down sooner."

"Not your problem," Duo assured him. "But I appreciate the save."

He plunked himself down at the table, his gaze going from Trowa to Heero as he wondered about the pair. Were they together—as in, a couple? Or were they just friends and roommates the way he and Quatre were? He wasn't even positive Heero was gay. The _Hot Studs_ magazine might've been a mistake—a glitch in the subscription department, for all he knew.

Trowa finished the last dish, and dried his hands on a towel, before grabbing the crutch that was leaning nearby and hobbling over to the table to sit opposite Duo. "Wanna grab me a drink, Heero?" he asked, settling back with a relieved sigh.

Heero cast a wary look at him when he passed him a bottle of tea. "You overdid it, didn't you?"

"Not much," Trowa said carefully. "Just, after all the running around this afternoon, standing in one spot sort of stiffened my knee up a bit."

Duo looked curiously at him. "Is it still bothering you a lot?"

Trowa shook his head. "It doesn't hurt much. Mostly I get frustrated at how weak the leg still is, and how hard it is to flex the knee. The surgeons warned me about that. But I hadn't counted on how much I'd feel like a useless invalid."

"You kiddin' me?" Duo chided him, keeping one eye on Heero, who was engrossed in making their sandwiches now. "Heero said you hiked out with him and the dogs to find the rest of the skeleton. And I just saw you doing housework. From where I'm sitting you don't look at all like an invalid; more like someone recovering at a pretty decent rate, who'll be a hundred percent before he knows it."

Trowa smiled and ducked his head to hide a blush. "Thanks. But you don't have to soothe my ego. I know I'm not much good around here right now."

Duo reached over and gave him a solid, stern punch in the shoulder. "Stop talking like that! You've gotta have an optimistic attitude, or you'll never get anywhere fast."

"Jesus," Trowa laughed, looking over at Heero. "You brought home a fuckin' cheerleader, Yuy." When Heero looked over his shoulder, eyes sliding over Duo before settling on Trowa, the auburn-haired man gave him a sly look. "Can I keep him?"

"No," Heero said firmly. He caught a glimpse of a startled look from Duo, and quirked a smile. "We already have too many pets."

"Nice," Duo grumbled. "I'm bein' lumped in with the likes of Thor and Balder, am I?"

Heero gave a shrug, walking over to place a plate with a sandwich and chips in front of Duo. "If you're housebroken, I suppose so. I'm assuming you are—?"

"Oh, fuck you," Duo mumbled. But it was muffled by the first bite he took from his sandwich and Heero let it slide, settling into the middle seat on the table with his own drink.

"Mmm—this is good!" Duo said brightly, after swallowing that first mouthful and washing it down with a sip of iced tea. "What did you put in it?"

"Trowa's secret seasonings," Heero said mysteriously, sharing a conspiratorial glance with his roommate that made Duo want to sigh with envy.

It was such a shame the two were obviously more than just friends. Quatre and he were the only gay guys in town, and since they were best buddies rather than lovers, it limited the playing field considerably.

"Bullshit," Trowa scoffed. "It's stuff from the grocery store. It's got garlic and onion and stuff, instead of just plain salt. Makes things tasty." He gave Duo what could have been a teasing leer as he said the word "tasty."

But then again, Duo reflected, it could have just been plain old amusement.

"So—dare I ask, Heero, why you brought Duo home? Aside from your tendency to pick up strays, that is," Trowa teased.

"He's going to grill me about Solo," Duo piped up cheerfully, gesturing towards Heero with his bottle of tea. "He promised me sustenance in return for information." He gave a wide smile. "I'm easy to bribe."

"I'll keep that in mind," Trowa replied with a smirk.

Heero kicked his brother under the table, which only made the auburn-haired man chuckle quietly and continue gazing appraisingly at Duo.

Duo, however, was distracted by the flutter of wings as Zero flew in off the porch and landed on the back of the one unoccupied chair at the table. "Hey! It's the screamer."

Zero bobbed his head in greeting and held up a foot, flexing the toes in a begging gesture.

"Aw, how cute! Can he have a piece of my sandwich?"

"A small one," Heero said with a sigh. "And watch your fingers. He can be a bit grabby at times."

Duo broke off a tiny square and carefully held it out, and Zero took it very delicately from his fingers, mumbling a "thank you" before clutching it with his claws and nibbling the meat out first.

"He is awesome." Duo was thoroughly enchanted by the friendly bird.

"Oh, don't say that!" Trowa chided. "It'll go straight to his head. He's already a pushy enough bird."

Duo reached out as if to pet him, and the bird clutched his snack tighter and gaped his beak in a "hands off" gesture.

"Careful," Heero warned. "He's a bit possessive once you give him food. And that beak is strong enough to crush Brazil nuts."

The mailman hastily pulled his hand back, looking a bit less confident. But at that moment Wing fluttered in to join Zero on the back of the chair, chattering away and doing his own begging routine.

"What's _that_?" Duo asked.

"A mynah bird," Trowa answered. "He's mine."

"Does he like sandwiches, too?"

"He likes anything that's not tied down," Trowa smirked.

Duo broke off another morsel for Wing, who was just as happy as Zero to devour the treat.

And when they saw that there was free food in the offing, Thor and Balder wandered over to poke at Duo with their shaggy muzzles and give him doleful looks.

"Okay—that's enough," Heero said firmly. He herded the dogs to the back door and let them out into their pen, and then shooed both birds out to the porch. "That sandwich is Duo's. Eat your _own_ food," he scolded them, as they flew to their respective perches.

He walked back over to the table, casting an amused look at Duo, who was making rapid progress on his sandwich now that the moochers were gone. "If you're about finished, let's go into the living room. I've got a couple of notebooks at my desk, and I want to take some notes while we talk."

Duo gave a slight grimace. "I s'pose I can't avoid this forever, can I?"

Heero turned to look squarely at him. "I know it's going to be painful for you to talk about Solo," he acknowledged. "But I mostly need facts and figures, and names of friends and enemies. I'll try to keep it short and to the point, okay?"

Duo nodded. "I appreciate that." He looked searchingly into Heero's face. "And thanks for callin' him Solo, instead of just Stevens. It seems a lot less impersonal—and it always suited him better anyways."


	39. Sharing Information

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU, yaoi, swearing, bigotry, some OOC

Pairings: 1X2 eventually, 3X4 also eventually

SMOKY HILLS

_"Samuel is an even wilder child than his father was; a rebel at heart. He has little use for the townspeople, especially after the well-meaning biddies in the social circle suggested I was not fit to raise him alone. They didn't come right out and say it. But their veiled insinuations that he needs 'a mother's touch' conveyed their message clearly enough. My failure to remarry after Eliza's death was always a bone of contention with many in this town. But as I've said before, the Bartons can take care of themselves. Samuel is proof positive of that. He is fiercely independent, clever and resourceful. He can hunt and trap with the best of them, even at his tender age. And he knows these hills and this land as intimately as the pumas that roam them. He's as deeply rooted to this place as I am…"_

—_excerpt from the private journal of Ephraim Barton_

Chapter Thirty Nine: Sharing Information

Heero headed into the living room, with Duo trailing along behind him, still sipping his bottle of tea. "Sit anywhere you like."

Duo settled onto the couch, looking around at the sparse furnishings. "So…I take it Old Man Barton didn't leave much behind in the way of furniture."

"The place was all but empty," Heero told him. "Aside from some moldy, mouse-ridden items and a resident squirrel population, that is. But the lawyer had warned Trowa of that, and we bought a few things at tag sales after we got settled in."

"Didn't he have his own stuff to bring?"

Heero shook his head, rummaging on the desk for a pen and paper. "He'd lived with a traveling circus right up until the knee injury. Basically, all he had were the clothes on his back."

"Wow," Duo said with a shake of his head. "Sounds like me back when the orphanage took me in."

Heero had found what he was looking for, and settled into an armchair opposite Duo. "It was lucky for Trowa that the lawyer found him when he did. He couldn't afford the surgery needed to properly fix his knee, and was being a stubborn ass about borrowing from me. I'd bullied him into moving in with me, so I could at least look after him. And then the lawyer came along and just dropped this place in his lap, along with his grandfather's personal effects and some money."

"Enough for the surgery," Duo guessed.

"Barely."

Duo raised an eyebrow. "Barely? Old Man Barton was supposed to be _loaded_!"

Heero shrugged. "Maybe he was land poor. This farm is huge, but for all you know, it could've been mortgaged to the hilt most of the time."

The braided man shook his head stubbornly. "No way. Howie knew him personally. Said the old coot owned the place free and clear."

"Yes, but there had to be maintenance. For all its age, the place is in decent condition," Heero pointed out. "His money probably went into upkeep."

"Doubt it," Duo replied. "He got deals from the local sawmill and feed store—bought all the discount stuff. The man was a freakin' miser!" His eyes lit with an eager gleam. "Word around town was that _his _pappy made a fortune on moonshine back during Prohibition, but buried it somewhere on the place, in case the government ever came looking to seize it. I'd bet my braid that he knew where it was, and dipped into it whenever he needed something. And that means there's probably a whole shitload he never got around to spending. The man pinched pennies until they squealed."

Heero wore a vaguely bemused expression, and fought back a skeptical grin. "As fascinating as this speculation about Old Man Barton is, we really need to talk about Solo."

Duo sobered instantly, dropping his face so that his bangs shaded his eyes. "That's right. You were supposed to be grilling me about my involvement in his disappearance."

"I told you you're not a suspect," Heero said firmly. "But I do need you to help me find out who _should _be."

"I _told _you—Otto and—."

Heero shook his head. "That's too convenient, Duo. It'd be easy to blame someone you're at odds with. But I don't want to take a chance on overlooking the real killer by adopting tunnel vision. I need to examine _all _possible suspects—anyone who might have had a grudge against Solo."

Duo snorted wryly. "Take your pick," he muttered.

"Did he have that many enemies?"

Duo looked up, managing a wan smile. "Naw, not really. It's just—Solo an' me—we were from the wrong side of the tracks in a town like this. We were orphans—charity cases. An' bein' gay on top of that just made us genuine outcasts."

"I find that hard to believe," Heero responded. "You seem to have plenty of friends in town. There's that girl at the convenience store, Quatre, your pal Howie…"

"Well, technically Howie isn't around any more," Duo told him. "He retired and moved to Florida awhile back. Hilde owns the store now, but she never changed the name, out of respect." He gave a genuine smile. "Howard was a great guy."

"You miss him."

"Yeah. Lots."

"Do you keep in touch?"

"Postcards now an' then," Duo admitted.

"I'll—need his address," Heero said reluctantly. "I overheard Ralph mention that he was there when you and Solo fought that last time."

Duo smirked at him. "How long were you listening in the hallway?"

"Long enough. But the police report of the altercation could be slanted. I'd like to get Howard's version of it, if you don't mind."

Duo peered warily at him. "What if I do mind? You'll still have to do it, won't you?"

"If it would bother you that much, I could do without it—just take what's in the original report."

Duo sighed. "Naw. That shit the cops wrote down, about Howard sayin' I told Solo to drop dead—? Well, Howie would probably give you a nicer version. He knew Solo an' me. And he knew the difference between us just mouthing off to each other and really getting into a scrap."

"You did that often?"

"Pretty much," Duo shrugged. "We grew up together. Hell, we were more like brothers than boyfriends, really." He closed his eyes and ran a hand across his face. "I might've been upset thinkin' he'd walked out on me—but that was a million times better than knowing he's dead."

"I'm sorry," Heero said quietly, genuine sympathy in his voice.

Duo looked up at him, blinking suspiciously shiny eyes, and forced a careless smile. "Thanks."

Heero fiddled with the pad in his hands, and then pulled himself back together and tapped at the page with his pen. "How about summarizing Solo's childhood and then giving me some names? I'll need people Solo was close to, whether it be friends, bosses, teachers, or enemies. I want to get a sort of 'snapshot' of his situation here in town. It might help me think of motives and opportunities."

"Okay." Duo sat back, letting his gaze wander around the room as he thought. "I already told you we were orphans. We started out on the street together, when we were really little, and then got taken in by the Maxwell Church Orphanage here in town." He gave a faint smile. "It was a damn sight better than we probably deserved."

"I doubt that," Heero said quietly. "No one deserves to be out on the streets. I've seen them; I know what it's like."

"Yeah, I guess you do. Sanc probably has its share of homeless people."

"It does." Heero tried not to let his mind travel down that road—into the dark alleys of Sanc. "So back to the point—how long were you and Solo at the orphanage?"

"Well, I ended up there until I was almost eighteen. Solo got adopted by an older couple when he was around ten." Duo scowled faintly. "I think they mostly wanted someone to help work on their farm. Their own kids were grown and gone—wanted nothing to do with the place. They said the big old house was too quiet without the sound of their boys to fill it up. But you'd think they'd have wanted more than one kid, if that was the case."

Heero looked sharply at him, and then his expression softened in sympathy. "I take it they turned you down."

Duo grimaced. "You're right on the ball, aren't ya? Yeah, Father Maxwell suggested Solo an' I could go together, since we'd been buddies so long. But the old fogies didn't like my hair, an' I wasn't about to cut it on the off chance they'd change their minds."

"I'm glad you didn't," Heero said firmly.

Duo cocked his head questioningly.

"Aside from the fact that it looks good on you, you were right not to change yourself for anyone else. It takes a strong personality to do that."

A deep blush spread up Duo's cheeks, and he looked away. "Thanks," he mumbled.

"I mean that," Heero insisted. "If those people couldn't accept you for who you were, they didn't deserve to have you in their lives."

"Jeeze," Duo mumbled, unable to even look up at the intense blue eyes. "You don't hardly know me," he pointed out. "I was a hellion. Not exactly adoption material."

"And Solo was?" Heero countered with a hint of teasing in his voice.

Duo managed to raise his eyes at least as far as the notebook in Heero's hands, and he studied the indecipherable shorthand the detective was using. "Solo was every bit as much trouble as I was—but he had short enough hair to pass muster with the Stevens family."

"So, I'll assume you two stayed close even after the adoption."

"Yeah. Solo came by the orphanage a couple times a week, and we hung out together in school."

"When did you become a couple?"

Duo couldn't help smiling wistfully. "On my thirteenth birthday." He looked up slyly. "I know—you're wondering how a street kid could have an actual birthday."

"The orphanage assigned you one, right?" Heero smirked.

Duo rolled his eyes. "Dammit, Yuy, you are way too quick for me!"

"You're just used to dealing with the lame brains that call themselves cops in this town," Heero said smugly.

Duo laughed aloud at that. "God, I wish Ralph was here to hear you say that!"

"I'm glad he's not," Heero asserted. "I have little patience for morons."

Duo laughed even harder. "Yer killin' me here!" he accused. "All these great insults, and I can't watch Ralph's face turn pretty colors."

"I'll be happy to repeat them next time I see him."

The braided man finally regained control, though a wide smile was fairly plastered across his face. "Ah, I s'pose I gotta get back to the story, hm?"

"It would be helpful."

"Well, Solo and I were a couple from then on. I started high school the next year, and we were pretty much inseparable."

"How did folks take to your relationship?" Heero interjected, casting a knowing look at the other man.

Duo snorted wryly.

"Did anyone openly threaten the two of you?"

"Y'mean aside from the obligatory name-calling and harassment in the locker room?" Duo asked. "Not really."

"What about that scene at Howie's?" Heero reminded him. "That was more than locker room shenanigans."

"Yeah, well, when Solo disappeared, it left me as the only gay guy in town," Duo said with a shrug. "Open season."

Heero's expression darkened. "That's bullshit," he said flatly. "And the police in this town are wrong to allow it."

"The police in this town—." Duo's voice trailed off and he shook his head. "I went to school with a few of them—Ralph and Alex, for example. The others—well, the older cops were friends with Trant's dad, back in the day."

"And Chief Tsubarov?"

"He's an okay guy, really," Duo said firmly. "But you've gotta understand, the way politics work in this town—." He shrugged. "Otto's dad is the biggest taxpayer in Smoky Hills. Even Tsubarov wouldn't dare press charges against his son."

"That's absurd."

"That's Smoky Hills," Duo insisted. He ducked his head, looking a bit embarrassed at the way things worked in his home town. "Look, 'Ro, it's no big deal. Yeah, Solo and I had a few enemies—and I guess I still do. But it's nothing I can't handle."

"Okay," Heero said diplomatically, allowing Duo his pride in the matter. "So—you and Solo had a falling out. I heard you tell Ralph Solo took off and you went back to work. When did you realize Solo was missing?"

"Right away, I guess—but it didn't sink in until a day had passed without so much as a word." Duo shrugged. "We generally made up within hours. But the next day when I tried calling and stopped by the apartment, I got a really bad feeling about it." His forehead creased in a frown. "Probably should've picked the lock right then—but I waited until after school the next day. All of Solo's stuff was there, only there was no sign of him. And his bed hadn't been slept in."

Heero raised an eyebrow. "How'd you know that? Maybe he made it when he got up."

Duo rolled his eyes. "Not hardly. But I'd spent the night before our argument there, and when I got up for school, I'd ended up dragging half the blankets onto the floor." He grinned sheepishly. "I was runnin' late."

"I won't even ask," Heero said with a shake of his head.

"It's not like that!" Duo insisted. "We weren't _doing _anything that made me late—I just overslept—like I always do. Anyhow, the room was just like it had been that morning. Solo hadn't been back. I went straight to the cops when I saw that."

"And they didn't take you seriously."

Duo gave a derisive snort. "That's putting it mildly—the assholes."

He looked up as Thor and Balder came trotting in, having apparently been brought from their backyard exile by Trowa, and automatically reached out to start scratching Thor's shaggy brow.

Smiling at the smug look on the dog's face, Heero tore his eyes away from the enchanting sight of Duo fussing over the dog with a soft expression on his face, and took the folder he'd appropriated from Ralph, scanning over the police report and comparing Duo's prior statement to the one he'd just made. They were virtually identical.

He kept reading, trying not to sigh in irritation at some of the derogatory marginal notes the investigating officer had written. "Who's Officer Clark?" he asked. "Is he still on the force?"

"Naw," Duo said with a shrug. "That was Trant's old man." A wry smile twisted his lips. "He died a couple of years ago. And good riddance."

"Not much of a loss to the force, if this is an example of his work," Heero agreed.

"Actually, I meant he sucked as a human being," Duo clarified. "I think he might've even slapped Trant around some. Probably why the loser ended up being such a bully."

"His father beat him?"

"Don't quote me on that," Duo said quickly. "It's just something Solo said once, about Trant's dad being a nasty bastard when Trant had a black eye in school that day. I've got no proof."

"Yes, well—." Heero paused, shaking his head. "I hate men who pick on those weaker than themselves."

Duo fixed him with a wary look. "Is that why you stuck up for me at Howie's? You thought I was weaker—?"

Heero caught the dangerous gleam in the indigo eyes at once. "No!" He blurted hastily. "That's not what I meant at all. I stuck up for you because you were outnumbered. It looked like they might do some serious damage."

The flicker of anger that had flared in Duo's eyes disappeared as quickly as it came, and he turned his attention to giving Balder as much affection as Thor. "Well—I can handle those two any time. Trust me on that. But it was nice having some backup."

"As I said before, any time." Heero's eyes were still roving over the report, and he glanced up at Duo questioningly. "Did Solo have a car?"

"Huh?" Duo glanced away from Balder just long enough to make eye contact. "A car? Yeah, he did. Why?"

"It was never found was it?"

"No." Duo scowled deeply. "The cops wouldn't list it as stolen, since they figured Solo'd taken off in it. So nobody ever looked."

"Like they didn't look for a body, back when the crime scene was fresh and there might've been evidence," Heero grumbled.

"Yeah, like that." Duo cocked his head, letting his fingers keep scratching behind the wolfhound's ears. "Why'd you ask about the car?"

"Just wondering if it could've been a car jacking gone bad—."

Duo let out a burst of laughter. "Oh, fuck! If you'd ever seen that car, you wouldn't ask!" he chortled. "It was a piece of shit, Yuy. A genuine crap car. Nobody in their right mind would've wanted it! Hell, even Solo didn't. He was all about havin' his cherry red Camaro some day…" Duo's voice trailed off and he sobered rapidly, blinking a few times and then focusing his interest on the dog again.

"I'm sorry," Heero said quietly.

"For what? Making me think about Solo?" Duo shrugged, despite the hoarseness of his voice. "I thought about him every day for years after he disappeared. Hell, I guess I still do."

Heero's expression shifted slightly. "Is that why you're alone? You were waiting for him to come back?"

Duo shook his head and then shrugged. "Maybe part of me was," he conceded. "I guess once I started believing the idiots who'd said he up and left, I hoped he'd send word for me to come join him." His expression darkened. "But after I turned eighteen and never heard from him at all, I kinda gave up that pipe dream, y'know?" He glanced up, giving Heero a shy smile. "I guess, mostly, Solo was a tough act to follow. No one measured up, and after having been burned once, I wasn't willing to take those kinds of risks."

Heero winced, recalling all too well the sting of being dumped. "I don't blame you," he said gently.

Duo looked up sharply, catching the change in Heero's tone of voice, but he couldn't read the expression in the deep blue eyes. "Well—maybe now that I know—." He couldn't bring himself to finish the sentence. Knowing Solo was dead, and that he hadn't simply decided Duo wasn't worth waiting for—well, it gave the braided man back something; something he'd needed very much.

"He didn't leave you," Heero said firmly, finishing the thought. "Not voluntarily. He still cared—still loved you."

Duo caught his breath, looking down at the dogs with a hand on each shaggy head, trying to blink back tears again. "Hey, 'Ro," he managed in a choked voice. "We about done? I'm—I need to get home—."

"Sorry. I didn't mean to push," Heero told him, thinking even as he said it that Duo had desperately needed to know Solo hadn't walked out on him under his own power. "How 'bout you just list some names for me—people who were in town back then who might still be around for me to talk to? And then I'll take you home."

"Sure."

Duo followed through by giving Heero a list of people who'd known Solo personally, whether they were friends or enemies. Of course, when he got to Father Maxwell, he had to explain that the priest was dead, along with Sister Helen and the handful of orphans who'd still been living at the church at the time.

But he wasn't prepared for the stricken, sympathetic look on Heero's face when he told him about the only real home he'd ever had burning to the ground.

"God," Heero ground out hoarsely. "If I'd had any idea of the shit I'd make you wade through—." He shook his head.

Duo gave a short, bitter laugh. "What—y'mean my life thus far? Yeah, I suppose it sounds kinda shitty. But it wasn't all bad, y'know. There were plenty of good times, too. And growing up with a best friend like Solo, and folks like Howard and Hilde around—well, I coulda done a lot worse."

Heero looked up from under his bangs, giving a wry smile. "Trowa's right. You _are _a cheerleader."

"You mean a _fuckin'_ cheerleader," Duo corrected with a smirk. "And no, I'm not. Quatre says I have a defeatist attitude."

"Well, I've yet to see it," Heero said warmly. He gestured with his notebook. "I think I've got enough names here to get started with some interviews. "I'll want to talk to Otto and Trant, for sure. But I think first I should do some fact-finding—see if anyone else can attest to their persecution of you and Solo. That will give me a stronger case for probable cause."

Duo looked amused. "Cop talk," he teased. "Kinda hot."

Heero blushed brilliantly, but got a moment to recover as Trowa entered the room. "Hey, guys—I'm about to start supper. Should I make enough for three?"

"No." Duo stood up hastily, feeling a twinge of guilt over the flirting he'd just done. If Trowa and Heero were a couple, he had no right. "I've gotta get home."

Heero stood as well, frowning in concern at the haggard look on Duo's face. The man had spent all day being grilled by an amateur cop—of course he was exhausted. "Another time, Trowa," he said quietly, sharing a significant look with his brother.

"Oh, yeah," Trowa replied, catching on at once. "Long day, huh Duo?"

"Yeah."

"Maybe you can come back soon," Trowa urged. "You and Quatre."

Duo managed a smile for him. "That'd be nice." And Quatre could see for himself how it was between Heero and Trowa. "I'll run it by Quat and give you a call."

He lapsed into uneasy silence as he and Heero got into the car and headed for town. But it didn't take long for the astute detective to notice how quiet he'd become.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

Duo shrugged. "Not sure you'd think they were worth it," he said wryly.

"Try me."

"Just—thinkin' about Solo an' stuff." Duo's gaze was drawn to the road leading up to Beech Bluff as they passed it. "I guess I'm still trying to let it all sink in."

"That's very understandable," Heero assured him.

"Quat and I drove past the forensic crew that day you found the rest of the bones," Duo continued. "I know the cops want to keep the location quiet, but—."

"You want to go there?" Heero finished for him.

"Should I?" Duo asked in a near-whisper.

"You want to see where he's been all this time."

"I think so."

Heero thought about it for a long moment. Some families found solace in seeing the place their loved one's body was found, and others only found it more upsetting. But the place Solo had been buried was peaceful and secluded. It was nothing like a body found in a dumpster or stuffed into a trunk.

"I can take you there," he offered. "There's not much to see—just a clearing in the woods. But if you want to—."

"I do," Duo said quickly. "When could we go?"

"Whenever you want to."

"Tomorrow? I'm pretty sure Quat won't object to me takin' a personal day."

"Tomorrow's fine." Heero adjusted his grip on the steering wheel, trying not to think of the outing as a date. He wanted very much to let Duo know he was interested in him—but it wasn't a particularly opportune time. Duo was still dealing with a huge loss, and his emotional state was questionable at best.

"Hey—."

"Hn?"

"I just want you to know how much I appreciate this—you getting me out of jail, and trying to find out who killed Solo an' all."

"It's my job."

"Ah." A faint frown creased Duo's forehead, and Heero noticed it out of the corner of his eye.

"What's the matter?"

"Nothing. Tired, I guess."

Heero snorted skeptically. "I haven't known you long, Duo. But I can recognize an evasion when I hear it. What's bothering you?"

"Just—well—you know about me—pretty much _all _about me. But I don't know much of anything about you."

Heero glanced aside at him. "Do you want to?"

"Well, yeah." Duo picked at the frayed seam along one leg of his jeans.

"Why?"

The braided man huffed in frustration. "I dunno—maybe because I spilled my guts to you, an' I feel like it was pretty one-sided. I don't even know why you'd give a shit if the Smoky Hills cops kept my ass in jail until Hell froze over."

"Maybe because I despise cops who abuse their authority and won't admit they're in over their heads."

"Yeah, but—." Duo blew out an exasperated breath. "So it was all just professional pride or something?"

"—or something," Heero echoed with a grin.

Duo glared at him, not sure whether he was being toyed with or teased. "How about throwin' me a bone here?"

Heero gave a nod of concession. "What do you want to know?"

Duo pondered that awhile, and then spoke up again with the first question that popped into his head. "You an' Trowa—. Are you—?" He closed his mouth abruptly, grimacing at what he'd almost asked. It was none of his business if they were more than roommates. And while they showed no overt signs of being a couple, it didn't mean they weren't.

"We're friends," Heero said evenly, without hesitation. "Roommates." He glanced over at Duo. "Is that what you wanted to know?"

Duo nodded mutely, biting his tongue to keep from asking the next biggest question on his list—was Heero gay? And if he was, would he be remotely interested in a loud-mouthed, brassy, long-haired trouble maker?

The braided man sighed, shaking his head at the unlikelihood.

"In case you're interested, we're half-brothers, too," Heero threw in, a faint smirk on his lips.

"Huh?" Duo gaped at him. "Seriously?"

Heero nodded. "Trowa's mother was pregnant with him when Dekim Barton took off, and my father, who'd been friends with her for a long time, asked her to marry him. I was born a couple of years after."

"Oh." Duo relaxed a bit, digesting the fact that Heero and Trowa might both be eligible gay men. Then he smiled faintly. "So you're the younger brother, eh?"

"Yes," Heero admitted with a slight grimace.

"Does Trowa throw that in your face much?"

"Only when he's trying to boss me around," Heero answered.

"I don't suppose he succeeds, though."

"Not often."

Duo had turned slightly towards Heero, his curiosity growing since his most pertinent question had been answered. "Why didn't you both go by the name Yuy?"

"Our mother felt that Trowa should bear his father's name—maybe for just such an eventuality as happened when the lawyer showed up to tell him about his inheritance." Heero gave a small shrug. "At least, that's my best guess. Our parents split up when I was a toddler, and I grew up mostly with my father, while Trowa stayed at the circus. We only ever got together at clown school."

"Clown school?" Duo asked in blank shock. "You went to _clown _school?"

"It was kind of a circus summer camp," Heero said defensively. "It was the one concession my father made—that I was allowed to spend that time with my mother and brother each year."

"Clown school." Duo shook his head, smirking.

Heero sighed. "Is it that unbelievable?"

"Yes." Duo had begun to snicker and could barely stop himself from losing it completely, picturing the stern, stoic man with face paint and a funny nose.

"It's not that funny," Heero insisted, even though a smile was threatening to break through his stern expression.

"But it is!" Duo insisted, clutching his stomach as the chuckles bubbled up. "Think about it! Face paint…juggling…and the _noses_!" He burst out laughing.

"Oh for fuck's sake," Heero hissed in exasperation. "We almost never dressed up in the whole outfit. Most of the summer camp was gymnastics and stunt training. You wouldn't believe how hard that stuff is. It's all about timing and coordination, you know."

Duo managed to stifle his amusement, considering the new information as he regained control. "I s'pose you're right. Must take a lot of talent to be able to look so clumsy without getting hurt."

"Damn straight!"

Duo smirked impishly at the scowling man, able to see amusement twitching the corners of the taut mouth. "Were you good at it?"

"Some of it." Heero didn't even want to try to explain that his serious demeanor and need for perfection had caused him no end of grief among the boisterous circus kids. He'd been very good at precision moves, but had never been able to loosen up and play the role.

"But not as good as you were at being a detective, right?"

Duo hadn't realized he stepped on some sort of land mine until Heero's face darkened and his hands tightened to a white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel.

He caught on pretty quickly then, especially when Heero didn't answer the flippant question. "'Ro?"

"What?" came a curt response as Heero throttled down the familiar feeling of guilt and failure.

Duo bit his lip, fumbling for the right words to get them back to where they'd been a moment before. He realized he'd somehow offended the Japanese man, but didn't for the life of him know how. And it didn't look like Heero was going to be much help on that score, as he was glaring fixedly at the road ahead, looking like he wanted to smash the car into the first solid object they encountered.

"I'm sorry," Duo blurted.

"What?" This time the tone was softer, more confused.

"I—I'm sorry. Whatever I said—whatever I brought up—."

Heero gave a sharp shake of his head. "Not your fault," he said tightly. And it wasn't. Duo had no way of knowing that the last thing Heero considered himself was a good detective. Good detectives didn't accidentally shoot innocent bystanders—at least not in Heero's estimation.

"But it feels like it is," Duo asserted, feeling like he'd asked a very personal question, even though rationally speaking, he knew it wasn't.

"It isn't," Heero said with a shake of his head, gradually pulling his mind away from the image of a sandy-colored dog and a little girl. "Look, I'd just prefer not to talk about my past, I guess."

"Okay." Duo looked uncomfortably out the window.

"It's—complicated," Heero said, a hint of apology creeping into his tone. "I'll get into it with you some day. Just—not today? Please?"

Duo shot him a startled look, catching the genuine pleading in his tone. "Of course," he said quickly. "I didn't mean to bring up anything bad—."

"I know. And you didn't," Heero assured him. "It's just been a long day for me, and when I'm working on a case, I tend to get a bit edgy. You just reminded me of some old baggage."

Duo managed a crooked smile for him. "You've got some, too? You'll fit right in to Smoky Hills then." He decided maybe turning the topic away from both of them might be a good idea. "How 'bout Trowa? What's his story?"

"His story?"

"The circus—the knee injury—inheriting a big ol' farm in the middle of nowhere—," Duo nudged.

Heero glanced warily at him. "Why the curiosity? You _like _him?"

"No!" Duo said quickly. "I mean, not like _that_. He's a nice guy is all."

_And my boss is lusting after him—so give me something to tell him already!_

"He's a very nice guy," Heero admitted. Then he decided it was time to throw caution to the wind, and hope Trowa wouldn't kill him later. Besides, he could claim it was just payback for that magazine subscription. "I think he's a bit taken with your boss."

"Really?" Duo asked with a wide, genuine smile. "Quat'll be glad to hear that."

"Will he?" Heero asked, smiling in return.

"Very," Duo replied. "That is, if you don't mind me passing along the information."

"Why not?" Heero said with a shake of his head. "I've been tempted to do it myself."

"Huh?"

"Trowa's not usually the shy type," Heero elaborated. "But he's been irritatingly timid about approaching your roommate."

Duo snorted wryly. "Sounds like they deserve each other then. Two peas in a pod." He dared a shy sideways glance at Heero. "Was Quat able to help Trowa with the journals? I never did ask him."

"He was very helpful, and I think he's got a friend named Rashid—some sort of museum curator—who's going to examine the ones that were too damaged for his skills."

"Yeah, I've heard the name. If Rashid can't repair the books, nobody can."

They were pulling into Duo's driveway by that time, and the braided man breathed a sigh of relief, glad to be home.

"What time shall I pick you up tomorrow?" Heero asked, throwing the car into park and turning to look at Duo.

"You sure you want to come all the way to town?" Duo asked. "I could meet you up by the reservoir—."

"I'll pick you up," Heero said firmly. "I think I'd like to see you safely to and from the burial site." The blue eyes were full of concern when they pinned Duo with a knowing gaze. "It'll be harder than you realize."

"You're probably right," Duo conceded. "How about after lunch?"

"One o'clock?"

"Sounds good." Duo got out of the car and leaned in the open window. "Thanks for being so helpful, 'Ro."

"My pleasure," replied the Japanese man, smiling warmly, and wishing he dared speak up on his own behalf as easily as he'd spoken up for Trowa. "You have a good night."

"You too."

Duo watched him drive away, feeling unaccountably warm all over. He couldn't say for sure that Heero had been flirting with him—but it certainly looked that way. Duo couldn't seem to wipe the smile off his face as he headed inside to start supper.


	40. Progress at Last

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU, yaoi, swearing, bigotry, some OOC

Pairings: 1X2 eventually, 3X4 also eventually

A/N: For more on Maxwell's Mortuary, you need to read "Greeting Cards," by Kaeru Shisho. Sorry this chapter took so long. Life's been complicated and exhausting. And all I want to do is write. I wish there were more time for the one thing that really makes me feel happy and complete!

SMOKY HILLS

_"I could have sworn I saw Eliza the other day, working out in her garden like she'd done so many times. I guess I'm getting old; maybe even senile. She looked just like she did the first summer we lived here, with wisps of hair blowing loose from her braid and framing her face, and a rosy glow to her cheeks. So much better than my memory of her pale, drawn features when she fell ill and died. I've told Samuel all about his grandmother, and a little about his parents. I can't bring myself to mention Aaron, though. Perhaps after I'm gone, he'll read my journals and find out for himself. I've thought of destroying these books, but can't quite bring myself to do it. I've saved so many treasured memories here…"_

—_excerpt from the private journal of Ephraim Barton_

Chapter Forty: Progress at Last

"So—how'd it go?" Trowa called from the kitchen even before Heero closed the door and tossed his keys onto the side table in the hall. "Did you finally tell him you're hot for him?"

"No, I did not," Heero said flatly, joining his brother in the kitchen. "But I did let him know you and I are related."

"At last!" Trowa blurted dramatically. "Progress!"

Heero gave him a slightly malicious grin. "I also told him you like his boss, but are too shy to make a move."

"You what?" Trowa's eyes widened in horror. "Heero—!"

"Relax. He said you and Quatre are 'two peas in a pod.' Apparently his boss harbors similar feelings for you."

"Oh." Trowa went back to chopping lettuce for a salad. "Oh!" he added as it sank in. "That's good then. Right?"

"Yes, Trowa. It's good." Heero walked up beside him and joined in the dinner preparations.

"Quatre and I were making a bit of progress on our own anyway, you know," added the green-eyed man defensively.

"I'm sure you were."

"No, really. When I brought him lunch at the post office, we had a very nice conversation."

"And I'll bet it centered on Duo's situation, rather than your budding romance," Heero guessed. "Right?"

"Well—you _know _how Duo spent the day. Of course Quatre was concerned about him."

"To the exclusion of all else."

"No! He was really glad I was there to help out—bring him lunch and stuff," Trowa asserted. "He kept telling me what a life saver I was."

"Not that you were drop-dead gorgeous and he wanted to have wild sex with you?" Heero shook his head in mock dismay. "You're losing your touch, Tro'."

"Am not." Trowa jabbed a carrot at him accusingly. "And you're no better! Wasting a perfectly good opportunity to tell Duo how you feel about him. You should've been asking him where he got such incredible color eyes, instead of when was the last time they were focused on his ex-lover."

"I'll get around to that," Heero said firmly. "In my own time." He washed off a tomato and started slicing it to go in the salad. "I'm picking him up tomorrow afternoon to take him to the dump site." At Trowa's raised eyebrow, he added, "He wants to see where the body was found."

"Is that allowed? I mean, with an investigation going on?"

"It's actually _part _of the investigation," Heero said carefully.

Trowa leveled a suspicious gaze on him. "You aren't suggesting Duo—?"

"No!" Heero retorted with a scowl, refraining from pointing out that those closest to the victim were most often involved in a homicide. He didn't want to debate it with Trowa, especially considering he mostly agreed with him. "I'm not saying that. And considering the level of intolerance in this town, Stevens might have had plenty of enemies. It's too soon to even speculate on a suspect."

"I'm glad to hear you say that," Trowa said coolly. "Because Duo is a really nice guy, and if you started talking like he was a murder suspect, I might have to belt you one."

"Hey, you aren't the only one who thinks he's nice!" Heero replied defensively. "Before I'd consider him a suspect, I'd have to know for sure it was a murder and that he had motive and opportunity. I wouldn't just assume he'd done it."

"Well, good. I'm glad you feel that way," Trowa said gently. "Maybe when I'm hanging out with Quatre I can find out if Duo's as into you as you're into him."

"Don't you dare ask—!"

"I wouldn't come right out and _ask_," Trowa scoffed. "I'm more subtle than you are—obviously. But I'd sure suggest the four of us get together socially, and see if he thinks it's a good idea."

Heero grimaced slightly. "I think I'd rather not have you shooting significant looks at me on my first date with Duo, Tro'. Let me approach him on my own, okay? I promise it'll be soon—no matter how this Stevens thing plays out."

Trowa looked at him for a long moment as if assessing his sincerity. Then he shrugged. "Have it your way, 'Ro. If you miss out, and I end up with _both _the hot guys, don't blame me." He gave a cheery grin and leaned to pat Balder, who'd walked over and looked up hopefully for attention. "So if you aren't taking Duo out in the woods to cross-examine him, what's the point?"

"I need to know more about Solo's last few weeks. I'm hoping Duo can recall more details after he has time to think back on it, and that walking in the woods will help him reminisce."

He didn't bother adding that while they hiked to the dump site, he'd be watching to see if Duo acted like he knew where they were headed. Not that he suspected the braided man; he hadn't been making that up for Trowa's benefit. But he didn't dare conduct a sloppy investigation, either. People's actions often spoke louder than their words.

"Reminisce, eh?" Trowa teased. "Sure you aren't hoping for a bit of romance—all alone out in the secluded forest?"

"There is nothing romantic about examining a crime scene," Heero said curtly. "If I want to seduce Duo, I'm sure I can find better places to do it."

"If—?" Trowa scoffed. "You know you want him."

"Yes, and I also know he's an emotional wreck right now. I'm not planning to take advantage of that."

"He seemed fine to me," Trowa pointed out, nibbling a slice of carrot and letting his gaze sweep the kitchen. "He was pretty chipper, all things considered."

Heero pondered that for a moment, and then gave a short nod as he dropped the tomato slices into the bowl. "He's a resilient young man. You know, he grew up in an orphanage in town."

"Ouch," Trowa said with genuine sympathy. "No family?"

"Just Solo. Only he got adopted out and Duo never did." He picked up two forks and began tossing the salad. "I can only imagine how much that rejection must have hurt—."

"Ah, Heero—." Trowa threw an arm across his shoulders and gave a squeeze. "You are gonna be _so _good for Duo."

Heero looked at him in confusion, and Trowa smiled warmly. "You're a sweet, caring guy, Heero Yuy. And if I weren't your brother, I'd be dating you myself. Duo's lucky as hell we ended up here in Smoky Hills."

"And what if I feel like the lucky one?" Heero replied just as seriously. "He's beautiful, Trowa. He's sensitive and kind—." He quirked a wry smile. "And he loves dogs."

"Now to get him to love _you_," Trowa urged. "Although, that might be the bigger challenge. Thor's got those big, brown eyes and that soulful expression."

"Yes, but I'm the right species," Heero defended himself.

They finished their dinner preparations shortly thereafter and had a peaceful meal out on the screened porch, before Heero went to review the case file and Trowa returned to his journals.

* * *

Meanwhile, Quatre had closed up the office in record time that evening, and hurried home to find Duo grilling chicken out on the back deck.

"Hey—you should be resting!" he accused, stepping up beside his roommate. "I didn't expect you to make supper after you spent all day at the police station."

"No problem," Duo said, waving a spatula cheerily. "After bein' cooped up all day, I'm enjoying the fresh air."

Quatre walked over and hugged him tightly. "I was worried sick, you know."

"I do know," Duo assured him. "And if Heero hadn't shown up when he did, you might've really had something to worry about. I was _this _close to assaulting a police officer." He pulled back and frowned at his friend. "Ralph fuckin' accused me of killing Solo, y'know."

"Oh, Duo—." Quatre hugged him again, even tighter. "I know you didn't—and so does anyone who knows you at _all_."

"Hell, even Heero knows that," Duo pointed out. "And he's known me all of what—a couple months?"

"Speaking of him—how'd he get you out of jail? You didn't give me details when you called. Is he a lawyer?"

"Naw—a cop," Duo said brightly. "And a way bigger cop than li'l old Ralph and Alex. He's the head of the Homicide Department in Sanc."

"Seriously?" Quatre's blue eyes went wide. "What on earth is he doing here in Smoky Hills?"

"Aside from investigating Solo's murder the way the Smoky Hills cops should've eight years ago? Nursing his brother back to health," Duo said with a smug smile.

"His—brother?"

"Yup." Duo turned back to the grill, flipping the chicken over and brushing on more barbecue sauce.

Then he heard a "yessss" behind him. "I knew it!" Quatre insisted. "I told you they weren't together!"

"Like you knew that," Duo drawled skeptically.

"Well not exactly," Quatre admitted. "But I told you it didn't seem like they were." He gave a frustrated sigh. "I wish Trowa had just come out and said something to that effect. It would have simplified things."

"Consider them simple," Duo suggested. "He's available, and according to Heero 'quite taken' with you."

"Really?" Quatre practically squealed, his voice rising an octave or two.

Duo gave a melodramatic sigh. "Really."

Quatre tugged at his sleeve, trying to drag him away from the grill. "I want to hear it all, Duo. You're going to tell me everything, from Ralph's bullshit, to Heero rescuing you, and how you got on the topic of Trowa liking me."

"Then go set the table and grab the veggies out of the microwave. The chicken's just about done, and I'll be bringing it right in." He gave his eager boss a wink and a grin. "We'll talk then."

Over dinner, Duo filled Quatre in on everything from the all-day grilling at the police station, to Heero's timely arrival and the subsequent trip out to the Barton farm, ending with his return home.

"So—he's going to show you where they found the bones buried? Wow." Quatre shook his head. "I thought you didn't want to go there."

"That was before I found out it was Solo," Duo pointed out. "Now—I feel like I need to see it."

Quatre frowned at him. "It might be more upsetting than you think, Duo."

"Doubt that," replied his roommate, sipping his drink. "I expect it to be plenty upsetting." He gave a brief, rueful smile. "But I also feel like it's important. Maybe I need some of that 'closure' they always talk about."

"I'm not sure you'll get that from a burial site."

"Why not? Going to the cemetery on the anniversary of the orphanage fire seems to work well enough."

Quatre rolled his eyes. "If it gives you closure, why do you need to keep going back?"

"Out of respect," Duo said firmly. "Father Maxwell and Sister Helen took damn good care of me—of all of us kids. They deserve to be remembered, even if it's only once a year."

"You remember them way more often than that," Quatre pointed out.

"True. And I sure don't need a headstone to sit by to remind me of Solo. But—." Duo's voice trailed off and he got a pensive look on his face. "Hey, I wonder what they'll do with him after they're done investigating." He cast a troubled look at his friend. "They won't just get rid of the bones, will they? Or keep them or something?"

"No," Quatre said firmly. "Normally I think they'd send them to a next of kin for burial."

"Solo didn't have anyone but me," Duo reminded him. "The Stevens don't count, because once they found out he was gay, they pretty much treated him like shit anyway. And their biological kids got the house after they died, so he ended up out on the street, more or less. If it hadn't been for Howard letting him rent the place above the convenience store, he'd probably have had to come back to the orphanage." Duo frowned deeply. "He wouldn't want to be buried in the Stevens family plot—that's for sure."

"So he won't," Quatre asserted. "I'm sure we can buy him his own place in the local cemetery. Maybe there's a spot near Father Maxwell and Sister Helen, if that's where you want him laid to rest."

Duo thought for a moment, and then shook his head. "Not sure he'd like that. He wanted out of this town so badly—."

"So have him cremated and take the ashes somewhere he'd like," Quatre urged. "Maybe you could ship them down to Howard and have him find Solo a warm, sunny place in Florida."

Duo couldn't help grinning at the mental image of Howard on a lounge chair on the beach with a box of ashes beside him, toasting Solo with an ice cold beer. "I might just do that," he said.

They turned their conversation to the less morbid topic of work, and finished their meal chatting about their next camping trip, and where they might go for a summer vacation. By the time they'd cleared the table and done dishes, Duo's rough day had caught up to him, and he was ready for a shower and bed.

He tried not to worry about the next day's outing, and instead let himself dwell on how nice Heero had been to him, and the fact that Trowa had talked about him visiting again—with Quatre. Now that he knew Trowa had the hots for Quat, it made more sense. He just wished he knew for sure that Heero was also gay and available.

"He did say he wanted to know more, didn't he?" Duo muttered aloud as he stripped out of his clothes and stepped into a nice, warm shower. "That oughta indicate _something_."

He shook his head as he let the water soak his long hair. "You're a chicken shit, Duo Maxwell. So screwed in the head over thinking Solo left you, that you're afraid to take a chance with your heart again."

He squeezed his eyes shut and let the water run over his face. "Solo'd kick your ass for that, y'know. Tell you to 'man up' and go for it."

He finished his shower in record time, more eager for sleep than anything else, and in spite of his nervousness over the upcoming field trip, he was out like a light almost the moment his head hit the pillow.

* * *

The next morning, Quatre slipped out without waking Duo, and it wasn't until the phone rang in mid-morning that the tired mailman dragged himself out of bed, stumbling downstairs just quickly enough to miss a call from a telemarketer.

"Fucking bullshit—," he groaned as he heard the cheery babble on the answering machine.

But since he was awake, he availed himself of the coffee Quatre had made, and a quick breakfast of toasted waffles, before trudging back upstairs to get dressed and ready to face the day.

The phone rang again as he was washing up the breakfast dishes, and he scowled at the unfamiliar number on the caller i.d. Another bloody telemarketer—?

"Maxwell's Mortuary," he answered snidely. "You snuff 'em—we stuff 'em!"

"Duo?" asked a hesitant voice.

"Oh, Heero!" he blurted, blushing to the roots of his hair. "Sorry 'bout that. Telemarketers, y'know?"

There was a brief, dry chuckle, and then, "I see. Does that discourage them?"

"Naw—but it entertains the hell out of _me_," Duo explained. "If you'd been an actual telemarketer, the greeting you just heard would've been followed by—." He stopped his imitation of the Emergency Broadcast System recording and laughed. "Sorry, 'Ro. Ignore my babbling; I'm barely awake here. Quat snuck out without waking me, and I kind of slept in."

"You probably needed the rest," Heero pointed out. "Yesterday must have been exhausting. And I probably didn't help matters by making you answer so many questions."

Duo snorted. "I expect to have to answer a lot more before we're through," he pointed out. "Seems like we barely scratched the surface."

"That's very perceptive of you," Heero commented. "And you're right. Maybe on our trip up to the burial location you can elaborate on some of the stuff you told me last night."

"Anything," Duo promised. "If it'll help you catch the bastard who killed Solo, I'll tell you anything I can." He paused, twisting the phone cord around a finger. "He _was _killed, right? I mean, you said there were no clothes buried with the bones—so someone must've killed him. It couldn't have been a weird accident, right?"

"That's highly unlikely," Heero admitted. "And once Doctor Chang returns a definitive cause of death, I expect to be able to fill in a lot of blanks—such as where the murder occurred, and under what possible circumstances."

"And that'll help you find a suspect?"

"Almost certainly."

"Good."

Heero hesitated, and then cleared his throat. "You do know that just finding a suspect won't necessarily ensure a conviction—."

Duo scowled vaguely and tugged at the end of his braid. "Yeah, I s'pose not."

Heero caught the undertone of tension in Duo's voice, and continued in a sterner tone. "You can't jump to conclusions either, Duo."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I don't want you getting into any trouble," Heero said frankly.

"Trouble?"

"Look—you mentioned those two apes from the convenience store right away when we talked about Solo," Heero reminded him. "What would you do if I found evidence that implicated them?"

"I'd fuckin' tear them limb from limb," Duo said promptly.

"No, you wouldn't," Heero scolded. "First off, because it would get you into huge trouble. But secondly, because I'm not going to _tell _you if the investigation turns up evidence leading to them. You won't be privy to any information concerning suspects or evidence—understand?"

"Solo was my boyfriend!" Duo said hotly. "He was my _best _friend, too. If you think I'm staying out of this—."

"That's exactly what you'll do," Heero told him.

"Then why are you takin' me to the place Solo was buried?"

"For several reasons," Heero said with a sigh. "For one, it seems important to you."

"It is. And so is finding out who killed Solo."

"You will. At least—you will if I'm able to solve the case," Heero said carefully. "With this many years elapsed between the murder and Thor's discovery of the body, it's going to be very difficult to scrape clues together. That's another reason I'm taking you to the dump site; you may notice things that I overlooked. You knew Solo better than anyone, and could tell me what he might have been doing in that area, or who else might have had reason to go there. I need your help."

"You've got it," Duo assured him. "I just don't see why I have to be kept in the dark."

Heero sifted through all the reasons—legality, impartiality, guilt or innocence—and finally settled on the right thing to say. "Duo—I've seen the Smoky Hills rumor mill in action. I can't afford to tell anyone anything about the case until and unless I have a very good lead. If it's any consolation, Ralph will know even less than you do about it."

Duo chuckled at the conciliatory tone. "Ralph knows less than I do about almost anything," he quipped. Then, recalling all he'd thought about in the shower the night before, Duo gathered up his courage. "Hey, Heero—if you wanna come a little early to pick me up, I'll make you some lunch. It'd give us more time—to talk about Solo, I mean."

"That sounds great," Heero answered, unable to keep the grin out of his voice.

"Yeah," Duo agreed. "So, c'mon over whenever you can."

"I'll be on my way as soon as I take Thor and Balder out for a short walk."

"Great."

It was only after he hung up the phone that Duo looked around and realized he had company coming over—company he sort of wanted to impress—and the place was a mess.

"Shit!"

* * *

Duo spent the next hour frantically tidying things up. Not that it was as bad as his panicked mind had decided it was—but there was laundry piled on one corner of the kitchen table, and the last thing he wanted was for Heero to see his underwear lying around. And the lawn mower engine he'd taken apart for repair needed to be moved from the coffee table in the living room.

The multiple little tasks that kept cropping up had Duo busy right up until he heard a knock on the door, and nearly jumped out of his skin. "Coming!"

He nervously smoothed the front of his tee shirt, and glanced at a mirror to make sure his hair wasn't all frazzled and that he didn't have a piece of breakfast stuck in his teeth, and then he went to open the door.

Heero looked as somber and serious as ever—right up until he smiled. It was almost as warm a smile as the one Duo remembered from the night he'd brought Thor home.

"Hey." He opened the door wider and gestured for Heero to come in. "Hope you like chicken. I've got leftovers from dinner I was gonna make sandwiches out of."

"That sounds delicious," Heero assured him, walking in and glancing around at the tidy kitchen. "This is a nice house. Do you and Quatre own it together?"

"We rent," Duo said with a shrug, pulling the chicken out of the refrigerator and laying it on the counter. He had a moment of déjà vu, picturing Heero having gone through the same motions to make his sandwich the night before, and couldn't help smiling as he grabbed the bread. "I don't think I'd want to own anything in Smoky Hills," he added as an afterthought.

"Why not?"

"I don't like it here," Duo said flatly. "Spent most of my life trying to figure out how to get away from the small-minded, judgmental old fogies in this place."

"Why not just leave?"

Duo sighed, turning a troubled look on Heero. "Lots of reasons—money being at the top of the list. I've saved up a little, but not enough for a fresh start somewhere else."

Heero smiled slightly, and gave a small shake of his head. "You don't need as much as you think. When I settled in Sanc, all I had was a job lined up, a security deposit and first month's rent on an apartment, and a couple of hundred in pocket money to tide me over until my first paycheck."

"Yeah?" Duo asked, genuinely interested.

"Yeah." Heero walked up beside him and started helping lay out the bread for sandwiches while Duo sliced chicken.

"I s'pose you need some education, though, to get a job that'd support you in Sanc," Duo mused.

"It helps." Heero glanced aside at him. "You never went to college?"

"Naw—back in the day, I was never that big on school, and there wasn't really any money for college, so I got the job at the post office and took a few correspondence courses—some on-line stuff." Duo shrugged nonchalantly, slicing off another piece of chicken and laying it across the bread. "Figured if I ever got the money together to go somewhere and try to get a job, I could at least show I'd been studying _something_. Want mayonnaise or mustard?"

"Mustard. And do you have any lettuce?"

"Sure. Quat's a bit of a health nut—keeps lettuce in the lower left drawer in the fridge." Duo was suddenly very glad Quatre had cleaned the refrigerator just a few weeks earlier, as Heero went over and snagged a few leaves.

"What did you take courses in?" asked the Japanese man, as he rinsed the lettuce and passed it to Duo to add to their sandwiches.

Duo smiled to himself, enjoying the feeling of teamwork, as he placed the greens over the chicken. "Mostly basic stuff—Math an' English, so I could pass any entrance exams a college required. An' some Forestry."

"Forestry?" Heero gave the other man a startled look.

Duo had paused, realizing he had more lettuce than he needed. "What? Didn't figure me for a tree-hugger?" He teased, shoving the extra leaf into his mouth and chewing.

"No," Heero admitted. "I don't know why; but I'd have expected you to be into Liberal Arts, rather than the sciences."

"Hm—like your friend Mister Chang?" Duo commented. "He's the science wiz, right?"

"He's a forensic anthropologist."

"That's what I said," came the smirking reply. "A science wiz." The indigo eyes fixed a steady, searching look on Heero. "When you said you worked with him, you meant on cases like this?"

Heero shook his head. "Nothing like this," he said firmly. "The cases we investigated were more—timely."

Duo grimaced. "Meaning the corpses were fresher?"

"Much."

"Head of the Homicide Department—," Duo mused. "You must've worked hard to get there."

"I did," Heero said tightly, not liking the direction the conversation was taking.

Duo missed the change in tone, as he finished putting the sandwiches together, sliced each one diagonally, and set them on plates. "Here ya go," he said brightly, passing one to Heero. "What'll you have to drink? We've got iced tea like you an' Trowa, or milk, beer, soda—."

"Tea's fine." Heero carried his plate to the table, while Duo brought drinks, putting tea in front of Heero's place and soda at his own.

The braided man also grabbed a bag of chips off the shelf. "Y'want chips, pickles, or fruit for a side dish? We've got grapes and apples."

"Grapes sound good."

Duo brought a bowl from the refrigerator. "You _are _a health nut, aren't you?" he guessed.

Heero cocked an eyebrow. "What? Just because I run, and eat decent food?" he asked with teasing sarcasm.

"Don't have to be a detective to figure it out," Duo noted, dropping into the seat across from him. "Hey—," he commented, popping open his soda. "You said you were on leave before. They let you take that much time off just to take care of Trowa after his surgery? Talk about job perks—."

"Actually, there was a bit more to it," Heero admitted, wishing they hadn't stumbled back onto the touchy subject.

Duo cocked his head, looking expectantly at his guest as he nibbled on the edge of his sandwich. But when Heero didn't elaborate, he frowned slightly. "Define 'more,'" he urged.

"I intended it to be a permanent leave of absence.

Duo's eyes widened. "Why?"

Heero suddenly scowled, his natural defenses falling firmly into place. "That's none of your business," he said sharply.

Duo blinked, feeling as if he'd been verbally slapped, and wondering how he'd spoiled the moment. He focused on his sandwich for a moment, to the exclusion of all else, but dared a quick, searching glance across the table and caught a glimpse of the turbulence in those deep blue eyes.

Obviously Heero's leave of absence was a sore subject, and he'd blundered right into it.

However, while he might have been perceptive enough to dodge a conversational bullet now that he was aware of it, he was at a complete loss when it came to restarting the stalled discussion. And it didn't look like Heero was going to be any help on that score; he was staring fixedly into his drink.

"I'm sorry," Duo blurted, feeling an odd sense of déjà vu. Then he recalled getting a similar reaction from Heero in the car the previous evening. What _had _they been talking about?

Oh—right! Heero's past. And here he'd gone and dredged it up again—only this time he'd actually pried a little bit.

While Duo was pondering all that, Heero was trying to formulate an answer to Duo's question—or at least a response to it. But he could hardly come right out and say he'd been put on medical leave for stress after killing a child in a shootout with a serial killer. And meanwhile, the mental image of a sandy-colored dog and a little girl made it so hard to breathe, he couldn't come up with any words.

"This was a bad idea," he finally managed, starting to stand up as if to leave.

"No! Wait a sec!" Duo pleaded, standing and facing him across the table. "I really want to see where Solo was buried—."

"Not _that_," Heero said with a sigh. "_This_." He indicated the table and their half-eaten lunches. "I said yesterday that I should keep things professional, and I was right."

Duo reached out and caught Heero's wrist when he started to turn away. "Wait!" he said quickly. "First off, we haven't done anything unprofessional," he pointed out. "Everyone's gotta eat. And I'm just returning the favor you did feeding me yesterday. There's nothing wrong with that."

He loosened his grip as the Japanese man turned back to face him and looked directly at him. "Secondly, you still have questions to ask me." He used the most apologetic expression he had. "I didn't mean to pry. I was just making conversation while we ate. But I seem to keep asking all the wrong questions."

Heero sighed, finally sinking back down into his seat. "There are things I just can't talk about," he said flatly. "And if that bothers you, I may as well just—." _Give up._

"Stop!" Duo said sternly. "It's okay. I don't need your life history. It's just that you know an awful lot of my personal shit, and I wanted some equal time is all. But obviously your leave of absence isn't something with good memories for you. So, we won't bring it up right now, okay?" He looked searchingly at the other man. "Can't we just skip to something a little less—serious?"

Heero nodded, realizing his hand was shaking when he reached for his drink again. He picked it up anyway, taking a sip to swallow the lump in his throat.

Okay—Duo figured he could work with that, hoping if he continued the conversation it would give Heero a chance to shake off the mood that had seized him when he was asked the troubling question. "How 'bout what caused Trowa's knee injury that brought you to this godforsaken town?" he ventured. "Is that a safe topic?"

Heero finally managed a wry smile. "Very," he admitted. He launched into the story of how Trowa had been injured in a fall at the circus and needed reconstructive work on his knee, and managed to keep it entertaining enough to last until they'd finished their meal and cleaned up the dishes.

Then, as he wiped his hands off on a dish towel, he gave Duo a long, slightly worried look. "Ready to go see the burial site?"

"As ready as I'll ever be," Duo admitted, running a hand back through his bangs and forcing a smile. "Let's get it over with, shall we?"


	41. New Leads

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU, yaoi, swearing, bigotry, some OOC

Pairings: 1X2 eventually, 3X4 also eventually

SMOKY HILLS

_"It's been the harshest winter I can remember. We've lost half the beef cattle and our best milking cow; though old Bess is still providing more than enough for Samuel and myself. If we hadn't had such a good harvest, we'd have long since starved or been forced to buy from the local merchants. I thank Samuel for that. He's a hard working young man. In fact, I think he works a bit too hard. He's a better farmer, hunter, and fisherman than I ever dreamed of being. He spends much of his time out in the hills, and knows this land even better than I ever did. It gives me hope that even after I'm gone, this farm will endure. It will thrive, and feed yet another generation of Bartons...at least it would if I could convince my grandson to start another generation! The boy needs to spend less time with guns and hounds, and more with young folks his own age…"_

—_excerpt from the private journal of Ephraim Barton_

Chapter Forty One: New Leads

"Sure you want to do this?" Heero asked, as they climbed into his car, and buckled their seatbelts.

He'd noticed Duo's growing tension from the moment they headed out the door. Actually, it had started earlier, when he'd snapped at the braided man for inquiring about his leave of absence. But it was pretty obvious that their trip to the dump site was only causing him more stress.

"I'm sure."

"There's not much to see," Heero told him, offering an out.

Duo set his jaw stubbornly. "Still—I want to."

"Okay." He started up the car and headed for the road, sparing a glance at his companion to try to assess his mood.

Duo sat rigid in his seat, staring out the window while his hands toyed with the end of his braid.

"I'll bet these hills are beautiful in the autumn."

Duo looked over at the Japanese man, blinking in surprise. "Yeah, they are." His eyes drifted back out towards the scenery, and this time he seemed to actually focus on it. "See there?" he asked, pointing to some wisps of mist trailing up from between the overlapping ridges. "On a really damp morning, there'd be a lot more mist. You could almost think the woods were on fire, the way it looks like smoke rising from the trees."

"Yes, I do see," Heero agreed, pleased with his choice of distraction. Duo seemed genuinely interested in the countryside around them. "The name makes perfect sense, when you see the hills at just the right time."

"And in autumn, when they're all red and gold, and the morning is foggy and cool, it looks like something straight out of a fantasy," Duo added, his expression a bit dreamy. "It's not the worst place in the world," he admitted. "These hills really _are _beautiful." He gave a wry smile. "Unlike the people living in them."

"I wouldn't necessarily agree with that," Heero said quietly, allowing his gaze to rest squarely on the braided man.

Duo looked sharply at him, and then his gaze dropped away and a hint of pink touched his cheeks. "Stick around awhile," he suggested, his tone subdued. "You might change your mind."

"About the scenery, or the people?"

"Either? Both?" Duo shrugged. "I dunno."

Heero responded with a shrug of his own. "So far, I've mostly liked both," he said evenly.

Duo smirked slightly. "Not at first," he pointed out.

The Japanese man smirked back. "You threw my mail in the bushes," he teased.

"I _accidentally _dropped it. And I tried to pick it all up!" Duo asserted. "Your freakin' bird scared the living shit out of me. You need to keep that thing caged, man!"

"Normally we do," Heero assured him. "He'd gotten loose that one time. And I was out looking—apparently not soon enough." He gave a deep, mocking sigh. "Who'd have thought the mailman was afraid of a little five-ounce bird?"

Duo glared at him, but without any real heat. "A five-ounce bird who hides in the trees and screams like a banshee! The li'l fucker took years off my life."

"I'll make him apologize the next time you're up at the house," Heero offered.

Duo looked surprised. "Next time?"

"Well, since I've told Trowa your boss might be amenable to a dinner invitation, I sort of hoped you'd come along."

A slow smile spread across Duo's face. "Yeah, I suppose I might."

"Good." Heero resisted the urge to grin like an idiot, focusing instead on the road ahead of him. He sobered as they neared the reservoir, closing in all too rapidly on their grim destination. "Tell me some more about you and Solo?" he asked carefully.

Duo drew a deep breath and sighed. "Where d'you want me to start? I told you the basic facts. What details might help?"

"Anything," Heero said with a shrug. "Everything."

"That's pretty damn vague, Yuy."

"I know. But you'd be surprised what small details sometimes aid an investigation."

Duo grinned at him. "More of that hot cop talk," he said a bit coyly, enjoying the hint of color it brought to Heero's cheeks. Now that he felt more certain of Heero's preferences, he couldn't help but try a little flirting.

Heero gave him a sidelong look. "Should I stop?"

"No way," Duo asserted. "It sounds so much better coming from you instead of Ralph."

Heero chuckled. "Does he even _know _any real 'cop talk'?"

"Doubt it," Duo shrugged. "Though considering his attitude towards gays, I'm lucky he didn't think of saying 'just the facts, ma'am,' to me. He'd have loved takin' a cheap shot like that."

"Fucking bigot," Heero muttered under his breath. "I don't know how you and Solo put up with so much."

"I guess it didn't really matter to us," Duo replied. "We were so freakin' nuts for each other, nobody else's opinion really mattered." His gaze drifted to the road they were traveling. "That spot up there by the sign—that's the first place Solo ever kissed me," he said quietly. "I can still remember the look on his face—."

Heero's fingers tightened on the steering wheel, as he refrained from reaching out to comfort the man beside him. "You said it was your thirteenth birthday."

Duo shot him a quick look. "Yeah—you remembered."

"I took notes," Heero said dryly.

"But you're not looking at them right now," Duo pointed out. "You don't have some kind of freaky total recall thing, do you?"

"No—just attention to detail," Heero assured him. "So, feel free to keep talking. I'll pick out the pertinent information as we go."

"Okay." Duo leaned back in his seat, watching the scenery drift past. "Solo and I had gone out hiking on my birthday. We had some favorite places around here where we liked to go to get away from it all. Up until that day, I didn't even know he was gay—or that I was. We were just good together. I liked his company, bein' around him, and pretty much everything about him. But then, he all of a sudden up an' kissed me." Duo shook his head. "I was just shell-shocked for a bit. And then he started apologizing, and saying he didn't want to mess up our friendship, but he couldn't help liking me as more than a friend—." He smiled at the memory of how awkward Solo had been in the wake of his confession.

"I take it you reassured him he hadn't messed up?"

"Yeah." Duo shrugged one shoulder, absently reaching to toy with the chain around his neck. "After that, we were a couple. And a few weeks later, someone saw us kiss, and then the whole town knew."

Heero grimaced. "I can just imagine how well that went over in a place like this."

"Not very," Duo agreed. "Father Maxwell was pretty cool about it, in spite of telling me I should wait until I was older for sex, whether it was with a guy or a girl. The Stevens family blew a gasket, though. If the adoption hadn't been all legal and binding, I think they'd have sent Solo back to the orphanage."

"How old was he?"

"Fifteen and a half."

"And he was eighteen when he died—so for over two years you had to put up with shit from just about the whole town, right?"

"Pretty much."

Heero shook his head. "Is everyone in this town from some outdated century?"

"Not everyone," Duo replied, thinking of Sally, Hilde, and even some of the older residents like Mrs. Heinz. He frowned at his companion. "You can't tell me there are no homophobes in the city."

"No. You're perfectly right. There are plenty of them," Heero admitted. "They just don't seem to be so—concentrated."

"You think Solo's death was some kind of hate crime?"

"It's as sound a theory as any," Heero told him. "Mind you, I wouldn't rule out an accident, or even a random killing. This town is close enough to a few major thoroughfares that the wrong type of person could've passed through eight years ago."

"Used to be quite a few strangers," Duo agreed. "But they were mostly the bums and hoboes from the railroad yard."

Heero looked over at him. "There's a railroad yard?"

"There was. With cutbacks and stuff, none of the tracks in town have been used in years. I heard there's some kind of plan to rip out the rails and make a walking path or something." Duo gave a wry smile. "Civilization comes to Smoky Hills—," he quipped.

"Walking trails would be nicer than train tracks, don't you think?" Heero prompted.

"It's just the end of an era," Duo explained. "Like the big farms all going under one by one, and ending up with housing developments or parking lots on 'em. Not _here _yet. But if you head down route 10, you'll see what they've done to neighboring towns—shopping centers an' wall-to-wall development. I might not want to stay in Smoky Hills forever, but I guess I kind of hope it'll always be here." He shook his head, looking a bit bemused. "Does that make any sense?"

"It makes perfect sense," Heero said quietly. "And if I were you, I wouldn't worry about any imminent demise of Smoky Hills. From an outsider's perspective, it looks like a town suspended in time—like the outside world hasn't really touched it yet."

Duo smiled a bit ruefully. "That's both a blessing and curse, huh? If time caught up here, maybe the old status quo would change for the better."

"One can only hope."

Heero was slowing down by that time, pulling onto the logging road towards the dump site. He parked on grass that had just begun to lose the flattened look from the forensic team's van and the fire engines that had rested there only a couple of weeks before.

"Are you still okay with this?" he asked once again, looking over at Duo's taut features.

Duo nodded, though his expression seemed to contradict the gesture.

"You really don't have to," Heero offered.

"Yeah, I do. It's—important. To me, at least." Duo unbuckled his seatbelt and opened his door. "Besides, anything that might help you find Solo's killer is worth doing."

Heero nodded and then climbed out of the car, watching as Duo looked off into the trees, scanning their surroundings. "Ever been here?" He found himself tensing as he studied the braided man, watching for any indication he might know where they'd be heading.

Duo shrugged. "We did lots of exploring out this way, back in the day. Used to try to find old man Barton's still—."

"Which 'old man Barton' would that be?" Heero asked with a smirk.

Again, Duo shrugged. "The last one," he said, walking over to run his hand across the brand new No Trespassing sign Heero and Trowa had posted. A faint smile touched his lips. "Won't keep anyone out," he said flatly. "Old man Barton used to back his signs up with a shotgun full of rock salt, an' it didn't stop us kids from poking around out here."

Heero shook his head. "He sounds like quite the character."

"Yeah, he was. Supposedly he had a still out here somewhere that he inherited from his father, who ran moonshine during Prohibition." He gave a short chuckle. "That was one fucked-up family."

"Trowa's been finding that out," Heero told him. "Going through all his grandfather's and great-grandfather's journals has been quite enlightening."

"Y'mean even Dekim kept journals?"

"Seems to be a family tradition," said the Japanese man. "He's got journals written by Ephraim, Samuel, and Dekim, as well as some old letters I believe a Jacob Barton wrote during the Civil War."

"Wow," Duo breathed, looking at him with obvious interest. "Think he'd let me read some of them?"

"I don't know. He's kind of fussy about them—several have some serious damage, and the rest are so old, they're quite fragile." Heero tried an encouraging smile. "You should ask him, though. I'll bet he'd like to talk to you about local history, and what it has to say about his family."

"I _will _ask him." Duo looked around them again, and turned to face Heero. "Which way are we headed?"

Heero gestured to the trail the forensic crew had more or less beaten into the leaf litter.

"It's a bit of a hike," he warned. "Nearly a mile in."

"I can manage it," Duo said firmly. "I hike all the time, out on State land. I've probably covered every square mile by now."

"You have?" Heero glanced aside at the braided man as they started into the woods. "You like to hike?"

Duo snorted. "Gets me out of town," he explained.

"Yes, but—weren't you the one who warned me about the wild animals out in these hills?"

"They're better than the ones in town," Duo replied with a mirthless smile.

Heero's face darkened. "That reminds me. I wanted to ask you if they're still harassing you the way they did at Howie's that night."

Duo shrugged. "It's sort of an ongoing thing," he said flatly. "Any time we cross paths, someone's liable to get their ass kicked—either verbally or physically."

"Why?" Heero asked, voicing the question he'd wanted to ask since that first time.

There was a deep sigh, and Duo shoved his hands into his pockets, looking down at the ground as he walked. "I dunno when it started," he admitted. "Years ago—back in grade school—we all got along okay. Heck, sometimes a bunch of us kids went camping together, and we'd all be there—Solo an' me, Mueller, Alex, Ralph, Otto, Trant, Nikol—. Solo and Trant were actually good friends for awhile. They were in the same class in school—a couple of years ahead of me."

He seemed lost in thought, and Heero waited a moment before speaking up. "So, when did things change?"

"I guess around the time Solo and Trant started high school. I'd have been almost twelve then." He frowned in recollection. "Solo had been hanging out with Trant a lot, over at the house, and then he just stopped. A few days later, they had an argument at school, in the locker room, that turned into a fight and got them both suspended for three days. An' after that, Solo would have nothing to do with Trant at all. Acted like he hated his guts."

"You don't suppose—?" Heero hesitated. "Could it have been because Trant found out Solo was gay?"

Duo shook his head. "I asked Solo about that, after we started dating a couple of years later. I was _sure _that had to be what happened—that Solo told Trant he was attracted to him or something and Trant freaked about it. But Solo said it had nothing to do with his sexual orientation." His frown deepened. "That didn't really make sense either, because Trant got ten times worse when Solo and I became an item. Almost like he was jealous." He looked up with troubled eyes. "You think maybe he decided he was gay after all, and wanted another chance with Solo?"

"I don't know. Isn't that something Solo would have told you, though?"

"Yeah, he would've," Duo said with conviction.

"And if that was the case, it would have been more likely for Trant to back off as soon as Solo was gone. There'd have been nothing for him to be jealous of."

"I s'pose not." Duo drew a deep breath and let out a frustrated groan. "I dunno. None of it makes sense t'me."

"Unless—Trant was interested in _you_," Heero said thoughtfully. "And Solo got angry and protective?"

Duo shook his head again. "Trant's not gay," he said firmly. "He's the biggest homophobe on the planet. And I didn't figure out I was gay until Solo up an' kissed me that day." A bemused smile touched his lips. "The same time I found out _he _was. I'll tell ya—he hid it well right up until then." He looked over into the deep blue eyes. "No—whatever went wrong between Solo and Trant didn't have anything to do with bein' gay or straight. It was something else."

"Trant would know," Heero noted.

"Psh—yeah. Good luck gettin' it out of him, though."

Heero gave a small, dangerous smirk. "I don't plan on needing luck," he replied. "Just the right questions."

Duo just snorted skeptically, and lapsed into silence as they hiked the more rugged part of the trail.

Once again, Heero glanced aside to see if his companion was looking ahead in the direction of the clearing; and once again, he was relieved to see that Duo was following his lead, and concentrating more on the rocky trail than their direction.

When they neared the clearing, Heero thought of one final test, and he stopped at the edge of the trampled and raked ground. "There it is."

Duo stopped too, paling slightly as he let his gaze roam over the secluded hollow. "This is where he was buried?"

Heero nodded, watching as Duo looked around, and releasing a breath he didn't know he'd been holding, when the braided man completely overlooked the fallen pine, and turned with a questioning expression on his face.

"Under that pine," Heero said, gesturing to the tree trunk that the forensic crew had rolled more or less back into place when they were done with their thorough search.

Duo turned around and focused on the decaying log that had been partially covering Solo's remains. It was obvious that it took years for the tree trunk to crumble to the point where the bones were reachable.

He walked slowly over to it, and then whirled to face Heero. "So he was just stuffed under a goddamned tree?" he demanded.

"It looks that way," Heero acknowledged. "Chang surmised that whoever hid the body here dug a shallow trench under the already-fallen tree, and put the victim into it, before backfilling it and shifting around some other branches to help camouflage the site."

Duo crouched down, looking at the tree, and the faint depression underneath it. "And—are they sure they got everything?" he asked quietly. "I mean, they didn't leave any of—him—did they?"

"No. The forensics team went through every ounce of soil here until they recovered even the smallest fragments of bone. The few they're still missing were probably carried off by scavengers."

"Like Thor," Duo pointed out.

"Exactly."

Duo looked up from his hunched position, his face taut with grief. "How could somebody just shove a person in a hole like that? I mean, you'd think they'd at least leave him where someone could find him—bury him properly—."

"Murderers are more concerned with concealing their crime than providing closure to the friends or family of their victim."

Duo trailed a hand down the crumbling tree trunk, blinking a few times to regain his composure and then pushing himself back up to his feet again. "Does the location give any kind of indication who might've done something like this?" he asked, tilting his head curiously. "I mean—the shows on t.v. have the cops finding all kinds of clues based on how the body's left, and where, and stuff—."

Heero gave a long look around the clearing, letting his eyes travel the nearby woods and study the lay of the land. "The location tells me the murderer, or murderers, knew the area well enough to know they could carry or drag a body down here without detection. That suggests it was someone local—someone familiar with the back roads and trails out here—or a frequent visitor." He walked a few steps up towards the trail, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he went. "Furthermore, the manner in which the body was concealed suggests it was not a well-planned act. There are rocks and boulders around here that would do a much better job of permanently covering a body. I think it was a rushed job. Probably not a premeditated murder. Maybe a case of road rage, or a fight gone bad—maybe someone drunk, or on drugs."

Duo had trailed along after him, and climbed on one of the aforementioned boulders, settling onto the flat surface. "Well—lotta kids used to come out here drinking," he told the Japanese man. "Not right in this spot, exactly, since it was on old man Barton's place and he was such an anti-social asshole. But up the ridge there. And on the overlook by the reservoir."

"Experience talking?"

Duo grinned wryly. "Maybe. Kinda. Solo an' I weren't really into drinking; but we used to come up here to make out a lot." He gave a small shrug. "When you live in a town full of homophobes, you learn to keep your preferences behind closed doors, or far enough out in the woods that no one will catch you. It's one thing for people to know you swing that way, and quite another for them to see any kind of public displays, yanno?"

"I do know," Heero said firmly, with just enough inflection in his voice to make Duo sure he was talking from personal experience.

Duo gave him a sidelong look. "Yeah?"

Heero nodded. "Yeah," he said, thinking of the locker rooms back at the precinct, and how careful he'd always been to keep his eyes to himself and his preferences low-key. He shifted restlessly and let his gaze rake the scenery again. "So—who else came out this way besides you and Solo? Other kids? Hunters? Hikers?"

"You name it," Duo sighed. "There were lots of kids, like I said. Hunters, not so much. Barton had the place posted, and the land around the reservoir is state-owned. They don't let folks hunt there."

"Hikers, then."

Duo nodded. "Lots of 'em; but mostly on weekends. Solo disappeared on a Monday."

"You said you two had a fight that afternoon," Heero reminded him. "Would Solo have come up here to cool off?"

"Not here, exactly. But he might've gone to the overlook on Beech Bluff." Duo felt a pang of nostalgia as he mentioned it, recalling how many times they'd spent long afternoons up there.

"Let's go there," Heero said, turning back towards the trail to the car.

"Wait—why?" Duo yelped, jumping up and hurrying after him.

"Because while this might be where his body was dumped, I highly doubt he died here."

"You think—on the overlook?"

"That's exactly what I think."

They made the return hike at a pace that left little room for talking. In fact, Duo had to nearly jog to keep up with Heero's brisk, long-strided walk.

Heero reached the car first, and unlocked the passenger door for Duo, before going around to get in the driver's side. "Buckle up," he ordered automatically, as Duo slid in, panting a little from the exertion.

The braided man hurried to comply, even as Heero started the car and threw it into gear.

"What I think happened," Heero said, feeling energized by the new lead, "is that Solo went to the overlook after your argument, looking to calm down and think. I suspect he encountered his killer or killers there, and was in a bad enough mood to maybe end up in a fight. From that point on, I don't know. He could have been killed accidentally, or on purpose, depending on who was involved and how the confrontation escalated." He gave a small shrug. "Solo ended up dead, and the murderer was left with a body to hide, and a crime to conceal."

"So they brought him to that clearing and stuffed him under a tree?"

"Probably." Heero tossed his cell phone over to Duo. "Can you do me a favor? Chang's number five on speed dial. If the signal's good enough, call him up and tell him I need him to send a couple of people to sweep that clearing for trace evidence—bottles, cans—something that might give us insight as to whether your friend interrupted a drinking party or something worse."

Duo eyed the phone warily. "Chang's on your speed dial?"

"Yes."

"Cuz you used to work together?"

Heero's face colored just slightly, and Duo hastily flipped the phone open. "Never mind. None o' my business." He hit the button and waited for the phone to dial and start ringing.

"We—dated for awhile," Heero said uncomfortably. "Chang and me. A long time ago."

"Ah." Well, that answered once and for all the question of Heero's sexual preferences.

Duo decided to refrain from asking why a long-past ex still rated a place on speed dial. "'S okay. Like I said, not my—. Oh, hi. Mister Chang? Ah, right—_Doctor _Chang. Yeah, I'm uh—here!" He thrust the phone at Heero, who took it and held it to his ear.

"Chill out, Wufei. I was driving, so I had Duo dial the phone." Heero shifted it to better hear over the rush of the wind in the windows. "I need you to send a cleanup crew to the clearing where the body was found. I'm interested in anything not of natural origin—wrappers, bottles, screw-caps—the kind of junk kids might've brought out to a hangout in the woods. Yes, I'm serious. I think I might be able to locate the murder scene, and I'd love to be able to tie it to the place the body was dumped. Anything man-made could help."

He was silent for a moment, listening to the other man, and cast a quick, sideways glance at Duo, offering a brief, reassuring smile. "No, Chang. He's not a suspect. He's the one who knew the victim better than anyone, and can hopefully help me pinpoint some clues." A flicker of annoyance crossed his face. "Don't listen to the local idiots. They don't know what they're talking about. It wasn't _like _that. And, no, I'm not going soft, you idiot. If you don't believe me, you come interview Maxwell yourself." He snorted derisively. "Yeah, I thought so. Let me know if your team finds anything useful. Okay? Yes, thanks. Bye."

He flipped the phone closed and dropped it on the seat.

Duo ran a hand back through his bangs. "Um, thanks," he mumbled quietly, smiling when Heero glanced his way. "Sounds like you got me off the proverbial hook, there."

"I merely corrected Chang's misconception."

"Well, thanks for that."

Heero shifted uneasily, his gaze back out on the winding road they were traveling. "And just to make sure _you _have no misconceptions, Chang and I are over."

"It's not my—."

"Well maybe I'd like it to be!" Heero said just a bit more sharply than he intended.

Duo blinked, a slow blush spreading up his cheeks as he processed the very clear message. "Oh." He tried rather ineffectually to suppress a smile. "Um, that's—that's good."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Of course, now that one hurdle had been cleared, neither of them knew quite what to say next, but the silence on the way to the overlook was the most companionable one they'd shared yet.


	42. Over the Edge

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU, yaoi, swearing, bigotry, some OOC

Pairings: 1X2 eventually, 3X4 also eventually

SMOKY HILLS

_"I'm getting slower these days. Even my old dog Thunder can more than keep up with me. I worry about what will happen to Samuel, when my time comes. He's old enough to take care of the farm and himself...but he seems so isolated here. I wish he was married. I know he had his eye on the miller's daughter. But he's never had the courage to approach her. I hope he finds it before it's too late, and someone else catches her eye. I want him to have a happier life than his father did…"_

—_excerpt from the private journal of Ephraim Barton_

Chapter Forty Two: Over the Edge

Quatre had been preoccupied all day—worrying about Duo's visit to Solo's burial site, and how it might upset his already-unsettled friend. He'd known Duo for a few years; long enough to know that the braided man felt things very deeply. He'd pined for Solo for a very long time, and finding out he'd truly never see him again had to be taking a huge toll.

So far, Heero didn't impress Quatre as the empathetic type, and he seriously doubted he'd offer much comfort if Duo broke down when he saw where Solo's remains had been dumped.

"I should've gone with them," he muttered, shoving letters into the post office boxes with more force than necessary.

"Hey there Mister Winner," came a cheery voice from the other side of the counter.

Quatre put down the handful of letters he'd been sorting, and went to wait on a customer. "What can I do for you, Mister Seymour?"

The man waved a letter, smirking a bit. "Wrong post office box," he announced, handing over the piece of mail.

"Oh, sorry," Quatre said with a grimace, realizing he'd put the mail in the box over, instead of under, the number. "My mistake."

"No problem," replied the older gentleman. "If you could slide my bills along to someone else, that'd be fine, too."

Quatre smiled wanly at the common joke. "Ah, but you know they'd just hand them back. I'm sure they've got plenty of their own, like we all do."

"So we do," agreed Mister Seymour, nodding politely before turning and leaving.

Quatre sighed, glaring down at the piece of mail. "I have got to pay better attention," he muttered, walking over and carefully placing it into the correct post office box.

Callie had finished her mail casing early, and was already loading up the vehicle, while Quatre was just completing his morning tasks, and he keenly felt Duo's absence and the drain it was on his concentration.

It did nothing to improve his mood when, nearly an hour after Callie left the office, the clerk from a neighboring town showed up with a piece of express mail that had come on a late flight.

"Sorry about this," the clerk apologized as he laid the item on the counter. "Inbound was late, and the hub office just got these distributed."

"Great. I suppose it's got a noon guarantee, too," grumbled the postmaster.

"Actually, it's a three o'clock one, but if your driver's already gone—."

"Yeah, I know," Quatre sighed. "I'll take it out on my lunch break." He glared at the clerk, though his anger was for the late transportation, rather than the hapless messenger. "I'm charging the overtime, though. I've donated enough of my time to the post office!"

"My boss says the same thing. They expect too much sometimes—the big shots up in the District."

"Yes, they do." Quatre nodded a farewell to the clerk, and took the envelope over to scan its arrival. When he did, he happened to notice the address, and his irritation faded into anticipation. "Trowa Barton," he said with a grin. "Well, I will absolutely have to get this to its destination, won't I?"

He glanced at the return address, which was Bloom's Traveling Circus, and his smile widened. "Huh. I wonder what this is about."

He knew Trowa had worked for the circus before his knee injury; they'd managed to cover at least that much during their evening at the library. Although, with Mrs. Noventa hovering over them, it had been painfully difficult to talk about anything very personal.

"I hope he's not being called back to work or something," Quatre murmured, less enchanted with the mail piece by the minute. "He said he planned to stay in Smoky Hills. Guess I'll just have to ask him…"

He shook his head, setting the express mail on his desk to be dealt with when he closed up the office for lunch, and went back to putting the last of the advertising mail into the boxes.

Twelve-thirty didn't come nearly fast enough for him, and he made record time closing up and locking the safe, before grabbing a scanner and the express mail to take to the Barton farm.

Unlike Duo, he hadn't yet had the chance to actually see the farmhouse, and he looked forward to his first glimpse of the "scary, haunted place" Duo had gone on about.

While he'd admit the tree-lined driveway winding through thick woods was a bit shadowy and forbidding, when he turned the last corner and arrived at the big farmhouse, he didn't see anything remotely suggesting ghosts or neglect. The small patch of lawn was neatly trimmed, and the porch appeared to have been freshly painted. The little picket fence was also in good repair, and the flagstone path to the porch was downright inviting.

"It's charming," Quatre concluded, parking and heading up the aforementioned path with the piece of mail and scanner in hand.

From inside the house he heard deep, throaty barking, and he paused in the act of knocking, recalling the "two monster dogs" Duo so often mentioned. Not that he was afraid, because Duo had also explained they were friendly, in spite of appearances. But then, Duo had met them before; Quatre hadn't.

The postmaster stiffened resolutely, and knocked.

When the door opened a moment later, Trowa was fending off two bounding, prancing dogs large enough for pony rides, in Quatre's estimation.

"Oh, Quatre! Sorry—they always seem to think it's Duo knocking, and want their biscuits." He forced the dogs back and stepped out onto the porch, closing the door in their faces. "It's good to see you," he said with a warm smile.

"You too," Quatre replied. He stared quite happily into those deep green eyes, completely forgetting his reason for being there.

Trowa didn't seem inclined to ask, either, but leaned back against the door enjoying the view of silky blonde hair and dreamy blue eyes.

They might have stayed in their happy little world indefinitely, if the shrill ring of the telephone hadn't interrupted.

"Oops. I should grab that," Trowa said with a frown. "C'mon in."

Quatre followed him into the house, and was immediately beset by two wagging, snuffling hounds. While Trowa answered the phone, the blonde was quite busy petting shaggy heads and fending off wet kisses from both Thor and Balder.

"Nice dogs," he said with a chuckle. "Easy there. No—no kisses, thanks."

Once they'd thoroughly explored his hands and pockets for treats, their interest waned, and they circled him a couple of times and wandered off to see what Trowa was doing.

He came back into the hallway just as Quatre recalled the piece of mail he was holding and his reason for the visit.

"Sorry," Trowa said with a smile. "I was expecting a call. That was just Heero telling me he and Duo are at some overlook, trying to find clues."

"Beech Bluff," Quatre guessed. "Duo and Solo always hung out there." His brow wrinkled in thought. "But that's a long way from where the bones were found. I wonder why they think there'd be any clues—."

Trowa shook his head. "Heero's got amazing instincts," he said with admiration. "He's solved cases no one else could make any headway on at all. If this case can be solved, he'll be the one to do it."

Quatre smiled at the blatant pride in Trowa's voice. "You really love your brother, don't you?"

"What's not to love?" Trowa quipped. "He's grouchy, bossy and opinionated—everything a brother should be."

"I—hope he won't be too stern with Duo," Quatre mused. "This is an awfully emotional situation—."

Trowa smirked knowingly. "Don't worry about how he'll act around Duo. Despite their rocky start, I think he's gotten quite fond of your friend."

"Oh. That's good," Quatre said with relief. "I know Duo would be happy to hear it."

"I expect he will," Trowa said mysteriously. "Heero may be slow to warm up to people. But once he does, they know exactly where they stand with him. He's nothing if not honest."

"That's a very good trait," Quatre beamed. "Especially when dealing with Duo. He's a straightforward kind of guy."

"Yeah, I got that," Trowa said with a chuckle. "That first day, when he brought the trunk down from the attic for me—I knew he was the type of person who's up front about things. And yesterday, when he and Heero were talking about Solo—hell, Duo just answered any questions without holding back." His mirth faded a bit. "I felt bad for him; he's had to put up with a lot of shit from folks around here, hasn't he?"

Quatre just snorted at the obvious.

"How about you? Do you get the same kind of flak?"

"Me?"

"For being gay. It's gotta be hard in a town like this."

"Ah—I'm not exactly sure anyone knows," Quatre said with a blush. "I mean, Hilde does. And a couple of others. But since I've lived here, I've never actually dated anyone."

"You haven't?" Trowa asked in genuine surprise. "But—I'd have thought they'd be lining up for a chance with you."

Quatre's blush deepened into a shade of red Trowa found quite endearing. "Well, the _girls _were."

"Oh. Awkward, huh?"

"Very."

"But how come you and Duo never got together—that way?"

Quatre sighed. "Neither one of us knew the other was gay at first, and by the time we did, we'd become pretty close friends. There just wasn't a romantic spark there, I guess."

_Thank God for that!_

Trowa's eyes took on a sort of calculating gleam. "So—_how_ long have you lived here?"

"About five years."

_Five years without a date—without sex._

"Damn."

Quatre shrugged, looking uncomfortably away. "It's not a big deal," he said casually. "I'm pretty busy, so there's not a lot of time for meeting people. And neither Duo nor I are into the bar scene. Besides, he's good company, and we've got a nice group of friends to hang out with. I hardly miss dating at all—."

"Bullshit," Trowa said with a grin. "I have friends too, and a great brother. But that didn't make me stop wanting—."

Quatre looked up with wide eyes. "Wanting—what?"

"—someone special," Trowa said very softly, looking deep into those aquamarine eyes.

"Oh."

Their near-moment was once again interrupted when the phone rang and both men nearly jumped out of their skins in surprise.

"Shit—I should get that!" Trowa stumbled back a step and then turned and went to answer the phone in the kitchen.

While he was gone, Quatre pulled himself back together, and scanned the piece of express mail so that when Trowa returned, he could at least finish the task he'd come there to complete.

Trowa came back a moment later, looking flustered. "I'm gonna have to cut this short, Quat," he said with obvious disappointment. "I've got Catherine waiting on the phone, and we need to talk awhile." He gestured to the piece of mail. "In fact, she was wondering if I had that paperwork yet."

Quatre held out the slip that needed Trowa's signature. "Good timing," he said with a grin.

Trowa signed the paper, and handed it back. "I—thanks for bringing this out," he said quickly. "This is your lunch break, isn't it? I should have fed you—."

"As a matter of fact," Quatre said, pouncing on the opportunity. "Since you fed me yesterday, I kind of hoped to return the favor. Could you and Heero maybe come to a cookout on Friday?"

"Ah, yeah. I think so," Trowa replied. "I'll run it by him—but I don't think he'll pass up the chance."

"The chance?"

Trowa rolled his eyes. "To see Duo again." He almost added the word "duh" at the end.

"Oh—so he likes him?" Quatre asked carefully.

This time Trowa did say it. "Duh."

Quatre smiled back. "That's good. Very good. So—how does six o'clock sound for dinner Friday? Duo and I will do the cooking, and you two just bring yourselves and a couple of healthy appetites."

"Sounds perfect." Trowa shifted the express mail from hand to hand, and then gestured back over his shoulder. "Phone call," he reminded Quatre.

"Yeah. Go ahead. I can find my way out."

Trowa headed back towards the kitchen, not without a longing glance over his shoulder, and Quatre smirked as he stepped out onto the porch. Not only had he enjoyed Trowa's company for a few minutes; he'd managed to parley it into a dinner date for the four of them.

Duo would be thrilled. At least, Quatre hoped so.

As he drove down the driveway, his conviction faltered a little. What if Heero was an unsympathetic ass, and things didn't go well today? Duo might not want to see him again at all.

Quatre frowned as concerns began to trickle into his head. And then he decided to swing by Beech Bluff on his way back to the office. Maybe if he could track down Duo and Heero, he could get a feel for how they were getting along, and whether a cookout was a good idea or not.

* * *

When they arrived at their destination, Heero and Duo parked by the road, and after making a quick call to tell Trowa of their change in plans, they headed up the wooded trail toward the overlook.

For his part, Duo was torn between excitement and dread as he wondered if it was the place Solo had died. It would be oddly appropriate, he thought, considering the time they'd spent there—but by the same token, he wasn't sure he'd ever be able to handle being there again.

"I—hey, I'm sorry to be taking up your whole afternoon like this," Heero spoke up. "It was just supposed to be a quick trip to the burial location—."

"It's okay," Duo assured him, glancing over a shoulder. "If it'll help you solve the murder, I'll do anything I can." He flashed a grin and a wink. "Besides, you're pretty good company."

Heero managed a smirk in return. "Likewise."

When they arrived at the overlook, Duo immediately headed for his favorite boulder, climbing up and taking in the view, while Heero took in the view of the braided man with the wind in his hair and the sun shining on his upturned face.

"Beautiful—," they said in unison.

Duo blinked and looked over at Heero, who was smiling sheepishly, for some reason.

"I love the view from up here," Duo explained.

"I can see why," Heero agreed, shifting his gaze to the vast expanse of glittering blue water far below them, ringed by green hills and sky.

"Feels like I'm on top of the world."

Heero looked sharply at him, tempted to ask if it was the contrast to his real life that Duo found appealing. It was pretty obvious that the man was near the bottom of the social spectrum in the close-knit town, even with his wide circle of friends. The gap between the "haves" and the "have-nots" was glaringly apparent, even from an outsider's perspective.

"So—where do we look for clues?" Duo asked, breaking into Heero's thoughts.

"You tell me. Where would Solo have been—on that same boulder?"

Duo shrugged. "Guess so. It's where we hung out—except we used to bring a blanket, cuz this cold stone is freakin' hard on the ass." He patted the flat granite affectionately. "We spent hours up here—talking about what we'd do with the rest of our lives when we got out of this godforsaken town."

"Just talking?" Heero teased, raising an eyebrow suggestively.

Duo blushed, looking down at his hands. "Mostly." He leaned back on the rock, rolling onto his side so he was facing Heero in a sort of reclining position, and giving him a conspiratorial smirk. "Maybe we kinda 'christened' the place, if ya know what I mean—."

"I get the idea," Heero said quickly, taking his turn at blushing.

Duo chuckled, lying back and looking up at the sky. "Wasn't really that big a deal," he said dismissively. "We were just kids—experimenting. 'S not like we even went 'all the way.' Never got the chance," he added rather wistfully.

"Exactly how old were you when Solo disappeared?"

"Fifteen—almost sixteen. He'd just turned eighteen a couple months earlier." Duo sighed. "That's why everyone figured he up an' took off—he'd talked about doin' it when he was eighteen." He shook his head. "I knew better, even if I started to doubt it years later. No matter how much we fought about him leaving, he wouldn't have taken off without at least a goodbye."

"I can't imagine him leaving you at all," Heero said absently, as he walked around the rock ledge looking for traces of anything that might constitute evidence.

Duo sat up sharply, looking intently at the back of Heero's head and waiting for him to realize what he'd said. But when the Japanese man didn't turn around or try to correct himself, Duo gave a small, smug smile. "Thanks, 'Ro," he said warmly. "It's nice of you to say that."

Heero finally did turn around, obviously replaying his last statement in his head, and then ducking his head in embarrassment, turning back to his examination of their surroundings. "Just stating the obvious," he shrugged.

"Right," Duo drawled skeptically, hopping off the boulder and joining Heero in his search for clues. "If you wanna find the stash of beer cans, try over behind that tree."

Heero followed his directions and, sure enough, located a convenient cavity between the tree and a rocky outcropping. There was an untouched six-pack tucked into the naturally cool cranny, and scattered beyond it were several empties. "I take it the local kids keep this stash."

"Yep. The ones that are too young to buy liquor pay the older kids to pick 'em up a six-pack and leave it here." Duo bent down and pulled the cans out from under the shelf. "Want one?"

"Aside from the fact that it could turn out to be evidence at some point, I'm more or less on duty," Heero reminded him.

"Oh yeah." Duo looked up from under his bangs. "I s'pose I just messed up any fingerprints on these."

Heero gave a tolerant smile. "Don't worry about it. These cans are far too new to have anything to do with the murder. We couldn't even begin to tie them to the crime. I'm more concerned with finding old discards that might date back a few years."

"Good." Duo pulled one can from the pack and popped it open. "Cuz I'm really thirsty." He sipped the beer, smirking mischievously over the can at the Japanese man.

Heero shook his head, and then his gaze lit on a pile of windblown debris. "That's more like it." He went to the pile and began picking through it, unearthing several broken bottles and crushed cans, as well as old, rotting food wrappers and bags. As he dug things out, he used a pen from his pocket to lift them from the rubble and set them aside.

Duo watched him with interest, drinking the beer while leaning against a tree trunk. "Y'think those will really help?"

"Maybe." Heero used his pen as a pointer to indicate one crushed and filthy beer can. "They don't make this brand any more. Haven't for five or six years. A fingerprint on this can would prove the identity of someone who came up here that long ago."

"Only if you've got a fingerprint to match it to," Duo pointed out. "What if it's someone who left town since then?"

Heero sat back on his haunches and looked up at Duo with a scowl. "Do you really need to do that?"

"Do what?"

"Have such a defeatist attitude." The frown deepened. "This is going to be hard enough, without you shoving my face in the fact that it might be impossible."

The braided man gaped at his bitter tone, and then shook his head. "I didn't mean to. God, 'Ro, I know what you're up against. Believe me; I do. I was just—makin' conversation. I didn't mean to shoot you down or anything."

Heero raked a hand across his face, letting out an explosive sigh and shaking his head. "You didn't," he admitted. "It's just—hitting home with me how difficult this is going to be—with so many years gone by, we may never know the truth." Then he looked up at Duo, his emotions swirling plainly in the blue eyes. "I want so much to find answers for you. It's not just about solving a crime; it's about finding Solo's murderer. For you," he added quietly.

Duo set aside his beer and dropped to his knees beside Heero, throwing his arms around the Japanese man and kissing him squarely on the lips.

Heero didn't hesitate either, but returned the embrace and deepened the kiss, savoring the taste of beer and Duo, mixed in equal parts.

They ended up more or less crawling over one another, until they were prone on the leaf litter and the small patch of grass growing in the shallow dirt atop the rock ledge.

"Oh God," Duo gasped, as Heero's hips ground against his and he felt the hardness pressing against his own. "Please—."

Heero pulled back panting and swallowed, licking his lips. "W-we shouldn't—," he managed hoarsely.

"Shouldn't what?" Duo asked breathlessly, grabbing the front of his shirt and pulling him back down for another kiss.

Heero groaned helplessly, surrendering to the delicious sensation of Duo's lips against his, and savoring the feel of the lean body underneath him. Duo hooked a leg around the back of Heero's and pulled him even closer.

They both lost track of time for a bit, much too busy enjoying their tactile explorations. Despite being thoroughly engaged in an ongoing kiss, which was only interrupted for the occasional desperate gasp for air, they both managed to tug shirts free from pants and find bare flesh to touch.

Of course, that led to the unbuttoning of jeans and the finding of even more enticing flesh to stroke.

And that pleasant occupation might have gone on indefinitely except that, over the sound of his own harsh panting, Heero very distinctly heard someone clearing a throat—behind him.

"Ahem. Duo? Is that you under one of our customers?"

Duo froze for an instant, and then began trying to disentangle himself from his almost-lover. "Quat? What the _fuck_, man?"

"Interesting choice of words," Quatre said coldly, leaning back against a tree with his arms crossed, while Duo and Heero rolled clear of each other and fumbled to tuck in shirts and zip up pants, both blushing furiously.

"I stopped by the Barton place to drop off a late piece of express mail that came in, and Trowa mentioned you two had headed up here to look for clues." He arched an eyebrow at Duo. "Did you think Heero might find them in your pants?"

The braided man's flush grew deeper, and he actually hung his head, while Heero finally managed to stand up and turn to face Quatre. "It's not his fault," he offered lamely.

"No, I don't imagine it is," came a chilly response. "I've known Duo a long, long time, and to the best of my recollection, he's never been a slut."

Heero's eyes flashed. "He's _still _not!" he growled angrily. "We just—got a little carried away." _Well, that was the understatement of the year…_

"Yes, well, before you carry him any further, maybe you should actually get to know him a bit!"

"I _do_ know him," Heero insisted. "He's an intelligent, gorgeous guy with a great sense of humor. And whether you believe it or not, I _care_."

"Then prove it, and slow the fuck down!" Quatre retorted. "Or don't you care that he's in a vulnerable frame of mind right now?"

"Hey, I'm right here guys," Duo muttered, looking up from where he still sat on the ground trying to gather his thoughts.

"I know he's vulnerable," Heero snarled back. "That's part of what drew me to him—wanting to make things right, and help him find answers—to see a smile on that face again, instead of the lost look he's had ever since we found that damned skeleton!"

"Yes, well, that skeleton was the only boyfriend he's ever had, you know. So maybe before you go taking his virginity, you should stop and think about what that means to him—."

"Quat!" Duo yelped, standing up quickly and stepping between him and Heero. "Jesus fucking Christ, that's personal! Keep your mouth shut!" he ordered, glaring at his friend. He was beginning to feel like the blush on his face might be permanent—whether from anger or mortification.

Then he felt Heero's hand settle on his shoulder from behind, and the anger drained away, leaving only the embarrassment. "Goddamn—," he sighed.

"I'm sorry," Heero whispered, easing closer and wrapping an arm around his waist. "I was rushing you, wasn't I?"

Duo shook his head and shrugged at the same time. "M-maybe. I dunno," he mumbled.

"Yeah, I was rushing things," Heero insisted in a soft, contrite whisper. "You just drive me crazy," he admitted, enjoying the way Duo shivered in his arms when he breathed those words on his neck.

"Same here," Duo sighed, leaning his head back against Heero's shoulder and leveling a stern glare on his scowling boss. "I know you're just worried about me, Quat. But I'm a big kid, an' I'm not totally stupid, okay? Heero's a great guy, an' I trust him not to—take advantage." He turned so he could brush his lips over Heero's cheek as he spoke. "He hasn't done anything I didn't want him to do. Hell, I was practically beggin' for it—."

"You never have to beg, Duo," Heero murmured back, totally ignoring Quatre. "You deserve all that you want—especially respect and love."

Quatre rolled his eyes. "Yes, well, in spite of all the mushy talk, I think it's a bit soon for you two to be getting 'carried away.'" He softened the rebuke with such a look of sincerity and concern that even Duo couldn't maintain his scowl. "There's no rush, you know. It's okay for you two to take the time to get to really know one another."

Heero's grip around Duo's waist tightened fractionally, as he recalled that his leave of absence would eventually come to an end, and he'd have to decide whether to go back to Sanc and resume his duties. But that wasn't something he wanted Duo worrying about, on top of all his other concerns. "He's right," he told the braided man. "And I _do _want us to take our time—to learn more about each other—before we take any—major steps."

"Yeah, well, maybe you haven't been celibate long enough then," Duo mumbled under his breath, trying to squelch his lingering desire.

"What?"

"Nothing." Duo tugged free of Heero's embrace and walked back towards the overlook, while Quatre faced off with the Japanese man.

"So—did you actually look for clues up here?" asked the blonde rather tartly.

"Yes, and we found some," Heero replied flatly. "I'll take a walk back down to the car and grab some plastic bags to put a few of these old bottles and cans into, and see if Chang's lab can come up with any fingerprints or possible links to a murder." He brushed past the postmaster and headed down the trail, while Quatre turned and followed Duo up to the ledge.

"I'd say I'm sorry for interrupting," Quatre told Duo's back. "But I'm not."

"I know," came a rather sour response.

"I only have your best interests at heart—."

"I _know_," came a sharper reply. "Just—drop it for now, okay? Maybe we were getting a bit ahead of ourselves, but I really like Heero. And I'm really tired of being alone. It felt nice just to be—touched."

"If that's all it was, I might've just turned and left without butting in. But it looked like he was headed for a lot more than simple 'touching,' Duo."

Indigo eyes shot him a rather peevish look over a shoulder. "Yeah, well, I guess we'll never know, now will we?"

"Oh for—." Quatre threw his arms to the sides in surrender. "Fine! I'm sorry I kept you from throwing away your virginity, okay? Next time you wanna let a near-stranger fuck you out in the woods, I'll just keep my mouth shut and go away! How's _that_?"

"It'd be a refreshing change from the lecture."

Quatre's eyes narrowed and he finally turned on his heel and stalked away down the hill, passing Heero without a word, as the other man was headed back up with a handful of plastic sandwich bags.

When Heero reached the top of the hill, Duo was still standing looking out over the reservoir, with his arms wrapped around himself as if chilled.

"Duo—?"

The braided man turned, managing a wan smile.

"Where'd your boss go?" Heero asked.

"I pissed him off, so he left," Duo admitted, looking vaguely guilty. He glanced warily at Heero, halfway wondering if the other man would offer to pick up where they left off.

Instead, Heero sighed, walking over and just wrapping an arm loosely around his waist. "I know you were embarrassed," he said quietly. "But maybe it's good that he showed up when he did. I don't know if I'd have had enough self-control otherwise. And us having sex right now could've been a big mistake. I meant what I said about wanting to get to know each other. I don't enter relationships lightly—especially not ones I hope to make—long-term."

Duo looked up sharply, a faint smile breaking through the stormy look on his face. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah." Heero's eyes warmed.

"Long-term? Really?"

"I—think so," Heero said with just a trace of hesitation. "And I think we should know before we jump into anything, don't you?"

"I—guess." Duo admitted. "But this feels right to me."

"To me, too. But so does waiting a little bit—until the case is resolved and you actually have some kind of true closure. Then I'll know if your interest in me is genuine, or just a result of what you're going through right now. I don't want to take advantage."

"'Ro, I was interested in you the moment I laid eyes on you at the post office that day," Duo asserted. "Believe me, it's genuine."

Heero gave him a warm smile. "I believe you. But Quatre had a valid point. You _are _emotionally vulnerable right now. And I would hate for you to ever feel like I pushed you into something you weren't ready for. I can be patient."

"But if the case drags on—," Duo began, looking searchingly into Heero's eyes and wondering how long the gorgeous guy would hang on.

"I have a feeling you'll be worth the wait," Heero said with a smile. "And I _am _willing to wait."

Duo smiled back, the tension easing from his lean frame. "You, Heero Yuy, are a helluva guy, y'know."

"So are you. And I don't ever want to see you sell yourself short again. Like I said, you are smart, funny, handsome—and you deserve way better than you've gotten out of life so far." Heero brushed the chestnut bangs back and dropped a chaste kiss on Duo's forehead. "I intend to see that you get it."


	43. Sorting Things Out

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU, yaoi, swearing, bigotry, some OOC

Pairings: 1X2 eventually, 3X4 also eventually

SMOKY HILLS

_"This winter just seems to go on forever. The drifts are so deep, I can barely make my way out to the barn to help Samuel with chores. He insists I don't have to; but I'm a stubborn old farmer to the end. I have to do as much as I can, while I still can. The same goes for Thunder, who still tries to chase the varmints, even if he's half-blind, mostly-deaf, and a wee bit lame. I'm afraid one of these days he'll get into trouble; either fall in the creek, or wander too far. After losing old Red to that puma years ago, I don't like the idea of burying another faithful friend. Hopefully he'll hang on until spring, when everything will get easier for us old-timers…"_

—_excerpt from the private journal of Ephraim Barton_

Chapter Forty Three: Sorting Things Out

Now that the intimacy of the moment had passed, both Duo and Heero were experiencing some awkwardness. They managed to salvage things by resuming their search for clues, finding, in addition to the bottles and cans, a broken comb, a scrap of woven plastic with a grommet in it, and a dirt-encrusted pen.

"Think any of this junk means anything?" Duo asked, holding up a baggie with part of their haul in it.

"Oh, it means something," Heero said firmly. He smirked, hoping to lighten the mood. "For one thing, the kids in Smoky Hills are a bunch of litter bugs."

Duo grinned a bit sheepishly. "Guess so. Maybe I should talk to the Scouts in town and suggest they do an environmental badge—come out and clean the place up."

"Not a bad idea. But wait until Chang's people have a chance to take a look around. They often see things a detective might miss."

"Like old pens and scraps of a tarp?"

"Actually, they'd be more in the market for murder weapons or places blood might have splashed and been able to withstand the elements."

"For eight years?"

"You'd be surprised." Heero took the baggie and wrote on a corner with a marker he'd brought from his car—indicating the date, time and place.

Duo looked around again, swallowing hard as he recalled the last time he and Solo had been there together. "Seems weird to know I'll never see him again," he sighed.

"But you will," Heero assured him. "As long as you have memories of him, a part will remain with you."

Duo turned misty eyes to the Japanese man. "That's sweet," he said in a husky voice. "Kind of a cliché. But maybe it's true."

"Things become clichés for a reason," Heero noted. "Mostly because they are so frequently true."

"Jeeze—a philosopher, aren't ya?" Duo shook his head as they started back down the trail towards the car. "You and Quat might just get along after all." He cast a dark look over one shoulder. "Once you stop the pissing contest."

"Excuse me?" Heero asked with an offended look. "Pissing contest?"

"Yeah." Duo ducked under a low branch and let it swing back behind him, narrowly missing his companion. "Between his overprotective crap, and you thinkin' I'm some kind of emotional wreck—. Let's just say it's gonna get really old really fast."

"I don't think you're an emotional wreck."

"You think I'm 'vulnerable,'" Duo reminded him. "Both of you. And that's just plain wrong. I may have taken finding out about Solo kind of badly; but that doesn't mean I'm not okay. I land on my feet, Yuy. Always have."

"I never said otherwise," Heero assured him. "In fact, even Trowa commented on your resilience."

"He did, hm?" Duo cast a sidelong glance at Heero. "Maybe I should be dating him—."

Heero missed a step and nearly tumbled down the slope, but Duo turned quickly and caught him, helping to balance them both.

They ended up pressed together, using a tree trunk for support.

"You okay?" Duo asked, looking at Heero with concern.

"Fine." Heero looked back searchingly. "Do you _want _to be dating Trowa?"

A soft smile graced Duo's lips. "Hardly. An' even if I did, he likes Quatre, and Quatre likes him—so he's far from available."

"But if he was—."

"God, Yuy, are you that insecure?" Duo asked flatly. "No, I am not interested in dating your brother. End of subject."

"Good." Heero pulled away and continued down the trail.

Now that he thought about it, recalling the way Wufei had broken off their relationship—maybe he was a little insecure. And faced with the chance to start something with a vibrant, handsome man like Duo, he couldn't help but worry. After all, he knew Trowa was more personable than he was; more easygoing and charming. Why shouldn't he feel a bit—insufficient—by comparison?

They reached the car and climbed in, setting out as the sun was headed for the horizon.

"Home?" Heero asked, glancing over at the braided man.

Duo opened his mouth to ask "yours or mine," but thought better of it and simply nodded. "I s'pose I could go ahead and make dinner even though it's not my night—kind of a peace offering to Quatre."

"That sounds like a good idea."

Duo sighed. "Yeah. I owe him an apology, too. May as well get that over with."

"Also a good idea," Heero acknowledged.

Duo seemed to run out of conversation at that point, lapsing into a silence that spread over the next few miles. He ended up staring pensively out the window, one hand toying with the end of his braid in his lap.

Seeing that there was obviously something going on in the other man's ever-active mind, Heero reached over and took hold of Duo's restless hand. "Hey, what's on your mind?" he asked.

Duo's lips quirked in a wry smile. "Just tryin' to figure out what happens next."

"Ah." Heero drove in silence for a moment, not releasing Duo's hand. In fact, his thumb rubbed in a soothing motion across the back of it. "Do you mean what happens between you and me, or were you talking about the investigation into Solo's death?"

"Either. Both." Duo shrugged.

"Well, as far as you and me—I'd like to—." Heero's mind supplied several inappropriate suggestions at that point, and when he realized his voice had trailed off, he opted for the first clean thought that found its way in. "I'd like to take you out to dinner someplace nice, where we could just enjoy each other's company. So I'm thinking it'd have to be outside of Smoky Hills." He glanced aside at Duo, trying to decipher the look on his face. "Not that I'm embarrassed to be seen with you; quite the contrary."

Duo blushed adorably, and ducked his head, looking studiously down at his lap and their entwined hands.

"But I get the feeling you might enjoy having our first date somewhere neutral—where there's no chance of encountering any small-minded assholes who might ruin it for you."

Duo looked up with a shy smile. "Yeah, I think that'd be nice."

Heero breathed an inward sigh, relieved that Duo didn't think he was reluctant to be seen with him.

"But—what about you bein' in charge of the investigation?" Duo reminded him, sounding like he hated bringing up the subject. "Are you allowed—?"

Heero gave the question a moment of serious thought before he spoke. "As I told Chang, you aren't a suspect. And I was intending to ask you out long before this whole mess got started. So I think as long as I do a proper, thorough investigation and don't let my feelings for you interfere with the process, it'll be okay." He gave an almost sheepish shrug. "Whether we're a couple or not, I can't be objective about you."

Duo grinned teasingly at him. "You say the sweetest things, 'Ro."

Heero rolled his eyes. "Wasn't meant to be sweet," he said gruffly. "Just a statement of fact."

"Yeah, well—right back atcha." Duo looked down at his faded jeans and then back over at Heero. "You, um, weren't thinking of any place too fancy for going out, were you?"

Heero gave a patient smile, realizing that Duo probably didn't have an extensive wardrobe, since he had no need for it. "No. It'll be casual, but nice. You wouldn't need to wear anything other than slacks and a good shirt—no ties or jackets or nonsense like that."

"Good," Duo sighed. "'Cause I'm not sure I even own a tie—unless you count the one I borrowed from Howard to wear to the church funeral and never gave back. An' I think that had some kinda lame polka-dots on it that I'd be embarrassed to be seen in any more—unless it was for a practical joke or something."

Heero found himself grinning at the notion of Duo in some bizarre, speckled tie. "Absolutely no ties," he promised.

Duo nodded, relaxing back in his seat. After another moment passed, he spoke up again, his tone both hesitant and hopeful. "So when do you want to go on this not-too-fancy date?"

"I'd say tonight, but after spending all day yesterday in jail, and today out hiking, you'd probably like a chance to relax."

"Yeah, and shower again," Duo said with a wrinkled nose, tugging at his tee shirt. "I'm surprised you'd wanna be within ten feet of me."

Heero's grip on Duo's hand tightened fractionally. "I want to be closer than that." He heard a soft intake of breath. "How's tomorrow night?"

"For—?"

Heero smirked at the wary look on Duo's face. "Dinner."

"Oh." Duo looked like he didn't know whether to be relieved or to pout. "Thought you meant the 'closer' part."

"Maybe I did," Heero teased. "If I feed you first, it'll help you keep up your strength."

Duo's eyes widened, and a hint of pink touched the high cheekbones.

"Relax," Heero soothed. "I said I'd wait, and I meant it. I'm just teasing you a little."

"Not complaining," Duo asserted, though he looked a bit relieved. "I—just. I guess I've got to get used to it. I mean, it's been a long, long time—."

Heero nodded, wondering if that was part of the reason for the unexpected kiss and what followed. "I understand," he said simply.

"How long ago—?" Duo stumbled to a halt. "I mean, if it's not prying—I wondered how long ago you and Doctor Chang broke up?"

"Six months, give or take," Heero said with a shrug.

"But you're still friends?"

Heero snorted wryly. "I'm not sure I'd call him a friend."

Duo cocked his head thoughtfully. "He's helping out with the investigation though."

"That's because I appealed to his professional pride," Heero explained. "He can't resist a good mystery."

"Oh." Duo was tempted to ask what Chang was like, but he didn't want to get Heero started on a comparison between him and a former lover. He wasn't at all sure how he'd fare next to an illustrious scientist.

"We didn't part on particularly good terms," Heero added, feeling like he needed to reassure Duo somehow. "But now that some time has elapsed, we can at least be civil to one another. And maybe eventually we'll be friends."

"But not yet?"

Heero shook his head, not wanting to come right out and say that Wufei had hurt him too much for that. But he noticed Duo looked oddly pleased by his response, and a faint smirk touched his lips at the suggestion of jealousy. He didn't mind if Duo wanted to be a bit possessive. In fact, he thought it might be quite nice to belong to the braided man…and vice versa.

"Here we are," he said as he turned into the driveway to the house Quatre and Duo shared. "Home at last."

Duo turned to face him. "I—thanks for taking me to the place Solo was buried. It meant a lot to me."

"I'm glad," Heero replied. He didn't bother pointing out that it had also helped his investigation; that wasn't his primary motivation for taking Duo there.

The braided man reached for his seatbelt, and Heero caught his wrist and pulled him in for a soft, chaste kiss.

When Duo pulled back, he immediately glanced around them. "'Ro—it's broad daylight!"

Heero blinked in surprise. "So?"

"So—someone could've seen."

"Like who? Quatre?" Heero teased. "Too late, Duo. And he saw a lot more than kissing."

"Yes, but that was up at the bluff. Hardly anyone goes there this time of year. We're right in the middle of town now. Anyone could be walking past."

"Isn't the fact that you're gay common knowledge around here?" Heero asked with amusement. "Considering Ralph knows, and the size of his mouth, I'm surprised it's not on a billboard somewhere."

"Yes, but you and Trowa are new, and no one knows—."

Heero tugged him in for a longer kiss. And when he pulled back, he rested his forehead against Duo's. "As I said before, I'm not ashamed to be seen with you, Duo. Or to have people know we're romantically involved."

Duo rolled his eyes. "You don't know how the people in this town can be."

"Like Otto? Trant?" Heero countered. "I know exactly how the people of Smoky Hills feel about homosexuality." He gave a cocky smile. "I just don't care."

"What about the investigation? If Ralph finds out you an' I are—together—he'll run straight to Tsubarov."

"Let him," Heero said boldly, knowing it might give Une reason to pull him from the case. He didn't think she would, though. He was—or had been—one of her best detectives. And she would trust his ability to carry on an objective investigation even if he was dating someone who'd been close to the victim.

At least, he hoped she would, because he really wanted Duo to feel sure of him—to know he wasn't afraid to take on public opinion when it came to their budding relationship. He could tell Duo was used to downplaying his sexuality, and he didn't like the thought of the braided man being so intimidated.

"My sexual orientation has nothing to do with my abilities as a detective, and my boss knows that."

"But yesterday you wouldn't let me buy you lunch—."

"Yesterday I hadn't begun working the case and ruled you out as a suspect. Now that I have, even if Tsubarov told my boss I was involved with you, it wouldn't matter. She knows I'll conduct a thorough investigation."

Duo frowned. "I was a suspect?"

"As I told you before, _everyone _was."

"Yeah, but when you rescued me from Ralph, you said you didn't believe for a minute that I'd killed Solo."

"I didn't. And my interview with you confirmed it."

Duo pursed his lips thoughtfully, not sure whether to be annoyed that Heero had even considered him a suspect at all, or grateful that he'd ruled him out. "So, your being—interested in me—didn't influence you at all?"

"If I'd had any inkling you were less than innocent, I'd have grilled you within an inch of your life," Heero said firmly. "And even now, if I were to find evidence that pointed to you, I wouldn't hesitate to pursue it."

Duo's eyes widened. "You wouldn't?"

Heero shook his head. "No, I wouldn't. Even if it hurt like hell, I'd do what I had to in order to solve the case."

Duo gave him a lopsided grin. "Oddly enough, that makes me feel better." He leaned in and pressed a grateful kiss to Heero's lips. "Thanks for wanting the truth for Solo," he said warmly.

"You're very welcome," Heero answered. "Now, what time can I pick you up tomorrow evening?"

"Hm—I'm going back to work tomorrow. So how 'bout any time after five, just in case it's a heavy day for mail?"

"I'll be here at six," Heero decided. "You'll have time to come home and change, so I can wine you and dine you properly."

Duo chuckled. "You know you could take me out for burgers and fries and I'd enjoy it just as much. I don't have very expensive tastes."

"That's beside the point," Heero assured him. "We're going someplace nice."

"Have it your way," Duo agreed. "See you at six." He slipped out of the car and walked up onto the porch, turning to give Heero a shy smile and a wave before stepping inside.

* * *

Heero turned the car around and headed home, busily trying to remember the name of a restaurant he and Trowa had tried on one of their trips to physical therapy. It had been much nicer than average and close enough to Smoky Hills for a night out. He really wanted Duo to enjoy their first official date, and was willing to go to any lengths necessary to ensure it.

Trowa looked up from reading the paperwork on Sandy the moment Heero walked in the door. "Hey there—got an express mail from Cathy, with Sandy's health records and a temporary permit for housing her."

"That's nice."

"Quatre brought it," Trowa added with a dreamy smile.

Heero gave him a surprisingly dark glare, and then turned and headed towards the kitchen. "I know," he snipped over his shoulder.

"What's the matter?" Trowa yelped, pushing up off the couch and following him.

"You told him where to find us," Heero said with his back to his brother, as he pulled an iced tea out of the refrigerator and took a sip.

"So—? I didn't know it was a big secret or anything," Trowa said with a puzzled look.

"Your pretty blonde pal interrupted a rather—intimate moment," growled the Japanese man, darting an accusing look at Trowa.

Trowa's eyes widened, and a broad grin split his face. "Intimate? _How_ intimate?" At the deep blush that spread up Heero's cheeks, his brother moved closer. "C'mon, Yuy. Spill it! How intimate? Were you already shagging the mailman up there?"

"No!" Heero said hotly, turning to face him. "Jesus, Tro'. How much of a louse do you take me for?"

"Well, I _had_ sort of thought you were a bit of a prude, in all honesty. Until now. So, exactly what did Quatre interrupt?"

Heero turned away again, fishing for a snack from the depths of the refrigerator, and mumbled something vague about "making out a bit."

"Details!" Trowa demanded. "I want specifics, bro'. An' I'm not gonna stop bugging you until I get 'em."

"For fuck's sake!" Heero blurted, walking over to toss a packet of cold meat onto the counter and then reaching for a loaf of bread. "It's none of your business, and frankly, it was none of Quatre's." He looked over his shoulder. "Your cute little postmaster has a temper, you know."

"Does he?" Trowa asked, sounding more intrigued than put off by the comment. "What'd he do—scold you two for public indecency?"

"More or less."

Trowa chuckled helplessly. "Aw, I knew I should've gone with him!" he lamented. "It would've been priceless, catching my little brother with his pants down!"

"They weren't down," Heero retorted, still keeping his attention mostly focused on making a sandwich, so he didn't have to look directly at his amused friend. "Just unzipped."

Trowa doubled over, clutching his stomach. "What a picture! Goddamn, I wish I'd gone!"

Heero scowled at him. "Good thing you didn't," he said warningly. "Quatre embarrassed Duo more than enough."

"Just Duo?"

Heero shrugged. "I don't embarrass easily. And since Quatre doesn't know stupid shit about me he could've blurted out loud, I wasn't too mortified."

"I take it Duo was," Trowa said, sobering. "What did Quatre blurt out?"

"Personal stuff—like Duo being vulnerable right now, and the fact that he's still—." Heero trailed off uncomfortably.

"Still—?"

Heero mumbled something while cutting his sandwich into squares and walking over to the table.

"Still what?"

"Nothing."

"Heero—."

"Nothing!"

"C'mon, bro'. You totally know I'll badger it out of you eventually. Why not save us both the time and effort, hm?"

"It's really none of your business."

"But I'm going to find it out anyway, so you may as well cut to the chase."

Heero heaved a frustrated sigh.

"Pleeease," Trowa wheedled, giving his most charming and puckish smile.

"Oh for crying out loud—fine! He's a virgin," Heero blurted. "Now would you fuckin' drop it?"

Trowa's green eyes went wide with shock. "He is? A gorgeous guy like that? Impossible!"

Heero glared hard enough to melt steel, though it had no discernible effect on his brother. "Apparently it's _not_ impossible," he said dryly. "I didn't ask Duo to admit or deny it, after Quatre went and just blabbed it out loud; poor guy was just mortified. Looked like he wanted to sink into the ground. And I don't blame him."

"Me neither," Trowa said with a shake of his head. He watched his brother settle into a seat and put his plate in front of him. "So—Quatre was worried about Duo's virtue?"

Heero shrugged and took a bite of his sandwich.

"Maybe he's right to be," Trowa added pensively. "You hardly know Duo. I'm surprised you'd make a move like that—."

"I didn't!" Heero said sharply.

"Huh?"

"_I _didn't. Duo did," came a rather defensive reply.

"Oh." Trowa pondered that for a moment while Heero ate a section of his sandwich. "So innocent little virginal Duo made a move on you?"

Heero rolled his eyes. "Trowa—this is one of the reasons I haven't dated since Wufei. If you're going to insist on prying into my love life, I really don't want to give you more fodder for your harassment—."

"I'm just trying to picture how you ended up groping each other when you haven't actually had a date yet," Trowa retorted. "I _know _you, Heero. You don't sleep around. And you certainly don't do it on the first date. I'm trying to understand your impetuousness this time around."

"I was looking for evidence, and telling Duo that it wasn't just about the murder case—it was about finding answers for _him_," Heero told him, knowing sooner or later his persistent brother would drag it out of him anyway. "Next thing I knew, he just grabbed me and kissed me." He took a sip of his tea. "Things sort of progressed from there."

"I guess so," Trowa smirked. "Were _his_ pants unzipped as well?"

Heero blushed and scowled and declined to answer.

"If Quatre hadn't interrupted, how far were you going to take it?"

Heero glared at him again. "Not as far as you think!" he said hotly. "Dammit, Trowa, I just got carried away for a minute. He felt so damned good in my arms—." He broke off in frustration, looking down at his plate.

"Hey, y'don't have to explain it to me," Trowa said gently. "I know what it's like. My track record's a lot wilder than yours." He plunked down in the seat opposite Heero. "It's been a long time since Chang and you split up."

"This isn't about Chang," Heero grumbled. "And it's not about just needing a piece of ass. You should know me better than that."

Trowa raised an eyebrow. "Explain it to me."

"Duo's—different," Heero admitted, forcing the words out past his natural reticence. After all, he habitually told Trowa things he wouldn't normally tell a soul. "There's something about him—."

"Aside from the killer blue eyes and gorgeous hair?"

"His eyes are indigo—almost purple," Heero corrected meticulously. "And the hair—. Well—."

"You're dying to see it down, aren't you?" Trowa teased.

"Maybe."

"I'll bet it reaches his knees when it's loose. Imagine all that shiny, silky hair draped over you—."

"Stop!" Heero ordered firmly, pausing to clear his throat. "Give me a break, Barton. Okay?"

Trowa subsided, but couldn't suppress a wide smile. "Sure. I'm glad you finally made some progress. At least now Duo's not in the dark about how you feel towards him."

"Ah, no," Heero admitted.

"And I thought for sure Quatre and I would be the first to take the plunge," Trowa sighed. Then he brightened a bit. "That reminds me—we're invited to a cookout at their house on Friday."

"We are?"

"Yes. When he dropped off the express mail, Quatre asked if we'd like to come over for dinner."

Heero grimaced slightly. "You might want to double check with him. I'm not sure the invitation still stands."

Trowa blinked in surprise. "He was that upset when he stumbled across you two?"

"You could say that."

"What did he say?"

Heero shook his head. "Nothing that wasn't true. But he said it—at volume."

Trowa laughed aloud again. "You have such a way with people, 'Ro!"

Heero sighed, finishing off his sandwich in a couple more bites, and washing it down with iced tea. "I'm just saying," he added. "You might want to check with Quatre before you take me with you to that cookout. I don't think he likes me very much."

"But Duo does?"

"It seems that way."

"So I'm sure you're still welcome at their house." Trowa rubbed his hands together. "It can be your first official date."

"No it can't," Heero countered. "I'm taking Duo out to dinner tomorrow night."

Trowa's jaw dropped.

"Well I told you I didn't want you and Quatre shooting significant looks at us on our first date," Heero reminded him. "I meant it, too. Duo and I are going to that place you and I tried on our way back from therapy; the one with the great salad bar."

"You're going there without me?" Trowa asked in horror. "I was the one who picked that place to begin with."

"And a good choice it was," Heero said complacently. "Good enough that I can take someone I want to impress there."

"Kind of selfish of you," Trowa said with a hint of a smirk.

"I'll bring home a doggie bag, if you like," Heero replied evenly.

Trowa mock-scowled at him. "Not the same. It'd be so much more enjoyable in person."

"Where you could leer at Duo and me for the whole evening? I don't think so." Heero smiled benignly. "I'd be happy to treat you and Quatre to dinner there, minus _my _company, sometime in the future."

"I'll hold you to that," Trowa warned.

* * *

While Heero and Trowa were deep in their conversation, Duo was finishing his dinner prep and trying to formulate the proper apology to Quatre.

On the one hand, he still felt a bit justified in his reaction to Quatre's interruption, since he was, in fact, an adult and capable of making his own decisions, and mistakes. Quatre didn't have the right to tell him what to do.

On the other hand, Quatre had been purely motivated by friendship and concern. He hadn't meant to embarrass Duo; only to protect him. And while Duo didn't feel he needed that protection, he could understand why Quatre had reacted the way he did. It _was _out of character for Duo to be making out with someone he was just beginning to get to know.

"But _God_, he's hot," Duo mumbled to himself, pausing to recall Heero's very delicious kisses, and shivering at the memory.

He shook his head, and shook himself out of the momentary daze. "Back to work, Maxwell."

He was just finishing mixing Quatre's favorite salad dressing when he heard footsteps on the porch and his roommate pushed the screen door open. "I swear," came his weary and frustrated voice. "If Mister Lindenmeyer and Mister Duncan get into one more argument about whether the flag belongs at half-staff—."

"Uh-oh," Duo chimed in, peeking around the kitchen door. "You gonna go postal?"

Quatre paused just inside the house and blinked at him. "Well—it's a possibility."

Duo chuckled and gestured to Quatre. "C'mon into the kitchen, then, and I'll calm you down before it's too late. Salad's ready and the casserole will be out of the oven in five."

The blonde frowned a bit. "But it's my night to cook—."

"Yeah, but I had the day off," Duo reminded him. "And after I was such a dick up at Beech Bluff, I figured I owed you a little something."

"Oh, Duo—." Quatre's features softened and he gave the brunet an affectionate look. "No you don't owe me anything. I know I kind of got carried away up there and said too much."

Duo shrugged. "You might've been a little bit over the top with tellin' 'Ro my personal stuff—but you were right about the rest. I did get carried away, and I really do need to find out more about Heero before things go any further."

Quatre smiled warmly at him. "I'm glad you aren't mad at me."

"Ditto," Duo smirked back. "Now come sit down to a spinach salad that'll knock your socks off and make you forget all about those dimwits at the office."

The blonde set aside his car keys and jacket and followed Duo into the kitchen. "They _were _dimwits," he acknowledged. "Seriously. They drive me nuts when they get anal about how the flag is flown. For heaven's sake, I just do what the district people tell me to do. If there's an occasion to put it down, I put it down. And I leave it that way until I get the word that it goes back to full staff. Ugh."

Duo smiled indulgently. The two customers Quatre was ranting about were old men with little to do besides critique the display of the flag at their local post office. And they never seemed to agree. "I keep tellin' ya, Quat. You need to put a pot-bellied stove out in the box lobby and a checkerboard. Get them distracted playing a game or two, and they'll forget to bitch and moan at you."

"Hmph. I wish." Quatre walked over to the table and his face lit up as he saw the salad dressing mixture. "Oh, Duo—you _really _didn't need to go to this much trouble."

"Yeah I did. Had to smooth things over with my best buddy—regardless of the cost in time and effort." Duo dramatically put a forearm across his face. "Despite grueling hours of painstaking measuring and—."

A cherry tomato bounced off his forehead, effectively ending his melodrama.

"Shut up and eat," Quatre said drolly.

"Aye-aye," Duo chirped, plunking down across from his friend and smiling. "But you're picking up that tomato yourself."

"I will. I'll even do the dishes," Quatre offered. "Since you went to the trouble of cooking."

"How 'bout we do them together?" Duo suggested. "Teamwork."

"Sounds perfect," Quatre said with a smile.


	44. Looking Forward

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU, yaoi, swearing, bigotry, some OOC

Pairings: 1X2 eventually, 3X4 also eventually

A/N: First off SORRY for the huge delay! I was traveling for a bit there—went to see my daughter across the continent, and visit Kaeru Shisho along the way. (Totally cool trip, I gotta say!) And since then I've been busy settling back in with a new dog in the household...a new 86-pound dog that didn't fit well in my daughter's apartment. At any rate, life's been hectic and unreal. Plus, my doctor has me on vitamin D pills and I'm supposed to get outside and get lots of sunshine. If I could just find a way to haul the computer outside... But at any rate, my apologies for the long time between chapters. I will try to get back on track.

SMOKY HILLS

_"I learned today that Samuel has been keeping journals of his own, and it warms my heart deeply. He's still a very solitary young man, but at least he has a place to put his thoughts to paper—to keep a record of his hopes and dreams, or to store precious memories. I know he's the type to hang on to souvenirs. His childhood treasure box used to be full of them, though I've no idea where it ended up as he matured. We've spoken of his future, and he knows that some day—probably soon, if my fading health is any indication—the farm will be his. I know he'll take good care of it, for he loves this land and these hills as much as I ever did. My dearest wish though, is to see him happily married before my time comes…"_

—_excerpt from the private journal of Ephraim Barton_

Chapter Forty Four: Looking Forward

The next morning, when Duo woke up, it took him several minutes to figure out why he felt so damned good. And then he recalled the previous day—the trip to the overlook, and all that followed, right down to Heero's delicious and sweet parting kiss—and a wide grin spread across his face.

"Good to be alive," he said with relish, stretching and then tossing back the covers and rolling out of bed.

He met Quatre in the hallway, looking a bit rumpled and sleepy, and he tousled the blonde hair as he dashed past and made it to the bathroom first.

"Hey!" Quatre protested, still rubbing sleep from his eyes.

"Be right out, sweet cheeks!" Duo sang back merrily.

Quatre leaned on the wall, sighing. "You are just going to be insufferable all day, aren't you?"

"Happy!" Duo called out. "Do you have a problem with that?"

"No," came the grudging admission. "But could you at least pretend to be less than thrilled about going to work?"

"Nope! Not even," Duo chirped in reply, having finished using the toilet and moved quickly on to splashing water on his face. "I'm looking forward to making my appointed rounds today. Did I mention I've got a dinner date tonight?"

"You might've," Quatre smirked, as Duo opened the door, tugging his braid free and starting to comb. "Just a million times last night while we were doing dishes."

"So—here's hoping the mail is light today, and I don't have any trouble out on the road, and I can get done early and come home and clean up for my date," Duo added.

"Just—." Quatre hesitated, not wanting to deliver another lecture. "I want you to have a good time tonight," he finally said.

"I'll behave," Duo assured him, sobering at once. "You had a point about not going too fast."

"I just hope Heero got the point, too."

Duo mock-frowned at his roommate. "We talked about this last night, Quat. You are going to back off a bit, and not play the overprotective brother. Heero's a good guy. Just ask Trowa."

"I know," Quatre conceded. "And I'll try to ease up a bit. But I've never seen you so wrapped up in a guy. It's just a little—."

"Annoying?" Duo guessed.

"Unsettling," Quatre suggested. "I'm afraid you could get hurt."

"So am I," Duo admitted. "But I've got a good feeling about Heero. He wasn't afraid to kiss me, even if someone might've seen us. It's like he's proud to be with me, and that feels really good, Quat. _Really _good."

"I'm happy for you," Quatre said firmly. "But at the same time, I can't help trying to watch your back, you know?"

"And I'm grateful for that," Duo replied. "At least—until it gets annoying."

Quatre gestured him aside. "C'mon. My turn at the bathroom. Go comb your hair in your room, or we'll be here all day."

Duo skipped merrily past him, completely missing the warm smile on the blonde's face as he headed for his room.

Quatre _was _happy for his roommate. Really, he was. But after seeing the emotional roller coaster Duo had been on the past few days, he couldn't help having a strong protective streak.

"I promised to ease up, and I will," he reminded himself, heading into the bathroom to take care of his own morning wakeup.

They made it to work at their usual times, Quatre first, and Duo an hour later, and they enjoyed a pleasant morning of light mail volume and a slow flow of customers. It left time for them to talk more about each of their love interests, and then move on to the latest news and interesting stuff they'd heard on the radio.

* * *

When Heero walked into the small post office late in the morning, Quatre was at his desk, catching up on ordering supplies. He looked up at the sound of the door chime, and gave the Japanese man a wary look.

"Mister Yuy—can I help you?"

"It's Heero, please."

Quatre gave a short nod. "Heero. What can I do for you?"

"Is Duo here?" It was a pretty lame question, since Heero had seen the Jeep parked behind the building as he pulled in.

"'Ro? That you?" Duo came around the sorting case from the back of the office where he worked. "What's up?"

Heero set a bag down on the counter. "I thought you might like a snack, for out on the road."

Duo smiled warmly, his eyes conveying how much he'd like to do more. "That's really nice of you." He leaned on the counter and reached out to tug open a corner of the bag and peer inside. "What—?" He looked up quickly, meeting amused blue eyes. "How'd you know I love chocolate-covered doughnuts?"

"I have spies everywhere," Heero teased. He plunked the large coffee down as well. "Three sugars and extra cream," he said smugly.

"Hilde!" Duo declared. "You got her to rat on me, didn't you?"

"I merely asked for her professional advice on what sort of refreshment I might bring to my letter carrier to brighten his day."

Duo glanced from side to side, making sure there were no other customers in the lobby, and then launched himself halfway across the wide counter so he could throw his arms around Heero's neck and kiss him soundly.

"Mmm, not at work?" Heero managed to mumble around the kiss.

"Yes, Duo. Your _boss _is watching," Quatre reminded him, sounding both amused and stern.

Duo turned a cheeky grin his way. "Why? Looking for pointers, are you?" He looked back at Heero. "Maybe you could tell Quat what your bro' Trowa likes in his coffee."

"Duo!" Quatre yelped.

"He takes it black," Heero said solemnly, winking over Duo's shoulder at Quatre. "But if you really want to impress him, add a shot of Irish whiskey."

Quatre blushed, sputtered, and then looked uncomfortably away. "I—I'll keep that in mind."

Heero chose that moment to set a second bag on the counter. "Hilde also mentioned that Duo usually picks up a little something for his boss."

Quatre blinked in surprise. "You didn't have to—."

"Consider it a peace offering," Heero suggested. "An apology for our awkward meeting yesterday."

Duo smoothly handed off the bag to his wide-eyed roommate, adding a pleading look at the same time.

"Well, thank you," Quatre said politely.

Duo turned back around and fixed a searching look on Heero's face, even as he grabbed his doughnut out of the bag and bit into it. "So—what's the occasion—besides an attempt to bribe the postmaster? Why'd you bring _me_ food?"

"Do I need an excuse?" Heero asked.

"Of course not, but—." Duo cut himself off. "Thanks," he said simply, leaning to brush a shorter, sweeter kiss across Heero's lips.

"You're welcome." Heero caught his braid, keeping him from pulling away while he licked a trace of chocolate off Duo's lower lip, and then put his mouth next to Duo's ear. "I'm just making sure you keep your strength up—for later." He drew back with a smirk. "You're gonna need it."

Duo's reaction was all he could've hoped for—a mixture of surprise, delight, and very obvious _want_. The wide, indigo eyes darkened with lust, and a faint groan escaped those exquisite lips. "Jeeze, 'Ro—way t'go. I'm gonna have to deliver mail while I'm horny all afternoon—." He glanced back at Quatre, who was now trying very hard to occupy himself with paperwork. "Do I get hazardous duty pay for having to drive while I've got a woody?"

Quatre shot him a deadly look from blue eyes. "That's a self-inflicted hazard, Duo," he said crisply. "Count yourself lucky I don't write you up for driving while intoxicated on _somebody's _kisses!"

Duo laughed aloud at that, and fixed a smoldering look on Heero. "He's so right," he sighed, stealing one last kiss before reluctantly pulling back. "Guess I better get back to work, huh?"

Heero nodded reluctantly. "Stay safe out there. Drive carefully. I'd rather you not be distracted while you're on the road."

"Hm," Duo smirked. "Gonna distract me later, are you?"

Well aware that Quatre was watching, Heero merely smiled inscrutably and winked. "We'll see."

"Tease," Duo accused, happily taking his snack back to his case to consume.

Quatre was looking rather intently at Heero, who met his gaze steadily. "I won't take advantage," he promised.

"That's good," Quatre said with a sigh. "And thank you for this." He gestured with his cup of chai. "You really didn't have to."

Heero snorted wryly. "Yeah I did. Trowa would've shot me if he found out I had the chance and didn't. He seems eager for you and me to get along."

"I want us to get along, too," Quatre told him earnestly, trying not to blush at the mention of Heero's brother.

"So do I," Heero agreed.

"Well, maybe when you two come to dinner on Friday, we can all get to know each other better," Quatre suggested.

"That sounds like a very good idea," Heero agreed, sighing in relief. "Is there anything Trowa and I could bring?"

"Nope. I've got the menu all planned, and I have Friday afternoon off to make preparations."

"You shouldn't go to a lot of trouble," Heero began.

"Give it up, 'Ro!" Duo called from the back of the office. "He's a man on a mission. I think he wants to impress your hot brother."

"Duo!" Quatre snapped.

Heero marveled at how easily and deeply the postmaster blushed at the mere mention of Trowa. He smiled reassuringly. "Trust me—Trowa will enjoy whatever you serve. He's really looking forward to Friday."

Quatre managed a smile in return. "So am I. Among other things, I wanted to tell him I heard from Rashid, and he's willing to examine the journals to see if he can salvage the ones with water damage."

"He'll be thrilled. But I won't spoil it by telling him. I'll leave that to you."

"Thanks."

Having delivered his treat and collected a delicious reward of kisses and the pleasure of seeing Duo's eyes light up, Heero said his goodbyes and continued on the rest of his errands.

He'd heard from Wufei that morning, and was meeting a two-man team up at Beech Bluff to show them where he thought the murder might have taken place. Along with the bits of evidence he and Duo had collected, the crew would take back whatever they found in their search.

He only planned to spend enough time to get them started, and then he was supposed to be home by early afternoon, to help Trowa with Sandy's arrival. The express mail package Catherine had sent included all the necessary paperwork for the lioness, and after their long phone conversation, she and Trowa had decided to proceed with transporting her.

The drive up to the bluff wasn't nearly as pleasant without Duo's company, but Heero decided it was just as well he had no distractions. Chang's people were generally focused on their work and quite efficient, and he tried to match their intensity on the occasions they crossed paths.

* * *

While Heero took care of his business, Trowa was readying things at home. Still somewhat hampered by a lingering stiffness in his knee, he found descending stairs and kneeling to be the most challenging activities. And preparing a lion enclosure entailed a little bit of both, as he clambered about, checking the sturdiness of the wooden "den" they'd constructed.

Leon looked on curiously, his golden eyes tracking the lean man's movements in the neighboring pen.

"Yeah, buddy, you just keep looking," Trowa said fondly. "You're going to like the improvements."

The big cat blinked and yawned, lying down and settling its big head on its paws, but still keeping a keen watch on the human.

"Her name's Sandy," Trowa added, tapping a hammer against a protruding nail to make sure it was flush with the wood. He'd dealt with big cats enough to know the small details to watch for in their housing. "Once we get the permits and non-profit paperwork, maybe we can see about an outside enclosure for you two—complete with a den made of stone, instead of wood. But this will have to do for now."

He paused, catching the faintest of sounds from up in the hay loft. He thought at first it might be mice, and glanced accusingly at Leon. "You'd think the least you could do is a bit of rodent control, cat. We must be feeding you too well."

Then he paused, hearing what sounded like footsteps overhead.

"Fuck," he hissed quietly, easing his way out of the lion pen and closing the door silently behind himself.

Intruders? Way out here? And how could anyone have gotten in?

Since the run-in with Ralph and Alex, he and Heero had kept the barn locked at all times, including the reinforced windows they'd installed. There was no way someone could have gained access!

Or so they'd thought. A light patter of footsteps across the loft made Trowa grab the nearest flashlight and the hook he used to retrieve debris from Leon's pen when the animal wasn't closed into his den.

"Who's there?" Trowa called, hoping his voice sounded sterner than he felt. He was tempted to go to the house and bring the dogs out before confronting anyone; but he didn't want to give them a chance to get away. He wanted to know who had intruded—and who had seen Leon.

He climbed the stairs to the loft slowly, the flashlight beam lighting the way and the pole with the hook held at the ready. And as he reached the top step, shining the light into the shadowy recesses of the loft—he saw nothing.

"What the fuck?" he muttered.

Aside from a few broken, moldering bales of hay and some scattered tools he and Heero hadn't bothered to clear out yet, the place was empty.

"Is someone here?" he demanded, feeling unaccountably angry at the fact that there obviously was no one, after his heart had just about pounded its way out of his chest as he climbed the stairs.

He almost thought he heard a very quiet chuckle, but then he saw the broken pane in the far window, and caught a rustle of wings as a small bird darted out.

"Jesus, Mary and Joseph!" he blurted, breathing a sigh. "Freakin' birds!"

He made his way carefully across the loft, shining his light on the floor to avoid tripping on any of the old tools. Heero had briefly examined the loft when they first arrived, and pronounced it sturdy. But they hadn't yet begun to make use of the space. Obviously when they did, it would require a bit of cleaning and sweeping.

"I hope those open," Trowa muttered, looking at the snug doors on either end, which would have been used to allow access for bringing in hay, back in the day. "It's dusty as hell up here."

He continued around the rafters of the old barn, figuring he might as well take a good look while he was up there. No point in missing something. And he wasn't yet convinced the footsteps he'd heard had been his imagination.

But the dust of many years was essentially undisturbed, aside from some boot tracks Heero had left, which were already becoming obscured by a fresh accumulation of the fine powder.

"There is absolutely no one up here," Trowa concluded, shaking his head. "I must be hearing things."

His flashlight beam reflected off something shiny where the rafters met the joists and, his curiosity piqued, the lean man got down carefully on his knees and reached into the narrow crawlspace.

His hand encountered several round objects and what felt like a small box, which he retrieved and shined the light on.

In his hand were some glossy marbles, and a wooden box with some letters carved into the surface.

"Aw—," he said with a wistful smile, realizing he'd discovered some child's private stash of treasures. "I wonder who used to play up here."

He started to pry at the box to open it, oblivious to the fact that he was sitting in a thick layer of old hay dust amid the shadowy rafters of an ancient barn. He just had to know what was inside.

Then he dimly heard the sound of an engine and a cheery female voice calling his name.

"Shit—Catherine!"

Scrambling to his feet, he tucked the box under one arm and stuffed the marbles into a pocket before grabbing his flashlight and hook and heading back across the loft.

He was only halfway down the steps, favoring his stiff knee, when the barn door opened and Catherine stuck her head in. "Trowa? You in here?"

"Yeah—coming," he gritted out, coughing and nearly missing a step as he tried to hurry.

He stumbled and dropped the hook as he made a grab for the railing, nearly falling headlong down the last few steps. But Catherine dashed to his aid, helping steady him.

"Careful! Watch your step," she cautioned. "These old barns can be dangerous!"

"Nothing wrong with the barn," he assured her. "Just my balance." He shook his head, taking a firmer grip on the railing. "Going down stairs is the hardest part of the knee thing."

He made it to the bottom step, setting the box aside on the nearest flat surface, before he was soundly hugged by his circus friend.

"Careful, I'm filthy," he warned.

Catherine let go and stepped back, putting her hands on her hips. "Yes, you are," she observed, reaching to tug a cobweb from his hair. "But after driving a hundred miles hauling a lion cage, so am I. I'd kill for a shower right about now."

"You've got it," Trowa promised. "Shouldn't we unload Sandy first, though?"

"Maybe give her a few minutes to calm down and get used to the hauler being still," Catherine suggested.

"Well I can at least offer you a cup of tea while we wait."

"You're on!" Catherine said gratefully. "Come on out and meet Sven. He came along to help out. And where's Heero gotten off to? I'd like to introduce him as well."

"He went to run some errands—should be back any time." Trowa put the flashlight away and hung up the food hook. "Let's start that tea and he'll probably be along to join us."

They stepped outside and Trowa got his first look at Catherine's boyfriend, his green eyes widening at the sight of the tall, broad-shouldered bodybuilder. "Whoa," he mumbled in an aside to Catherine. "He looks like he could single-handedly _carry _the damned lion inside for us."

Catherine smiled smugly. "Why yes, I believe he could." She walked over and hooked an arm around one of Sven's. "Trowa—this is Sven. Sven—my childhood friend Trowa."

"Pleased to meet you," said Sven, holding out a massive hand, which dwarfed Trowa's as he shook it.

"Likewise." Trowa was hastily rethinking the lecture he'd planned to give the guy on taking good care of Catherine or else. Sven looked like he could snap him in two with his bare hands.

_Maybe if he had Heero's handcuffs—?_

_Or not…_

He looked at the thick wrists and decided there were no handcuffs large enough to fit around them.

"So—how long have you and Catherine been dating?" he asked carefully.

Sven smirked at him, obviously realizing the effect his appearance had on those he just met. "Several weeks now," he said with just the slightest hint of a lingering accent. "And before you give the big brother speech, I care very much for my little Catherine. I will do nothing to hurt her; you have my word."

Trowa smiled in relief. "That's good to know. How 'bout we go inside and have some refreshments?"

"That sounds lovely," Catherine said with a smile of her own, tugging Sven towards the house. "You've got to see the place, Sven. It's absolutely darling!"

"Darling?" Trowa asked with a raised eyebrow. "It's just an old farmhouse, Cath. And, by the way, I wish you'd been dating this guy back when we moved in. We could've used his help hauling the furniture up the stairs."

Sven glanced over his shoulder with a grin. "Any time you need help, you just call—ja?"

"Oh, I will," Trowa promised, wondering if there was a chance of hiring a bunch of the roustabouts to come out during the off season and help install the heavy metal fencing required for large cats. He'd have to talk to Heero about that possibility later.

* * *

While Trowa was enjoying a short break with Sven and Catherine as well as introducing them to the rest of the menagerie, Heero was still at the overlook with Chang's two-man crew. They were members of the team that Heero had only met once or twice before, and so he was spared the need for idle conversation as they gathered data.

He simply leaned up against a tree and let his gaze scan the area for additional clues, while the men searched and bagged whatever they found. They also took some impressions of the rock ledge itself, and a slew of pictures, explaining that with head trauma as the cause of death, they might match up the type or contours of rock with the injuries on the skull.

"Hey—I think I've got blood here!"

Heero straightened, walking over to where one of the men was lying by the big boulder in the center of the ledge, angling a small light into places where the rock jutted out and created sheltered nooks. He hadn't expected them to find any blood, considering the time that had elapsed and the fact that the bluff was exposed to sun, wind and weather.

"Are you sure?" he asked a bit breathlessly.

The man fumbled to stick the tiny penlight in his mouth and grab a swab and a bag from his pocket. "'nk so." He poked around in the crevice and tucked away what he found, before rolling over and scrambling to his feet. "I dunno if it'll be of any use," he said with a shake of his head. "But there was a trace of blood spatter up in there. It showed up with the light. Probably not enough for any kind of real analysis. We'll keep looking for more."

Heero sighed. Not enough for analysis. That meant they might not even find out if it was human. Not that he'd expected such a stroke of fortune; but part of him had hoped.

It wouldn't mean anything anyway, he told himself. If they couldn't identify it as Solo's blood, it could be anyone's. He thought of kids hanging out and drinking up there, and the many ways they could fall and scrape a knee, leaving traces of blood behind—not to mention other bodily fluids, if it was still used as a make-out site.

"Maybe you could check on the trail down to the road," he said, trying not to sound as defeated as he felt. "If the murder took place here, the body had to be moved. Won't be much of a blood trail after all these years—but I guess we could hope for a scrap of bloody cloth or _something_."

The man nodded sympathetically. "We'll comb every inch from here to the road, detective. If there's a clue to be found, we won't miss it."

Heero smiled wanly. "Thanks." He glanced around again and gave a slight shrug. "You don't really need me cluttering the place up, do you?"

"Not at all," came the prompt reply. "I s'pose you've got interviews to conduct and plenty of other evidence to examine, so feel free. Chang will call you in a day or two with whatever information we can scrape up, okay?"

"Yeah."

Heero headed down the trail, trying to stay focused on searching for clues instead of letting himself drown in the hopelessness of a decade-old murder investigation.

By the time he made it home, he'd managed to pull his thoughts away from their depressing spiral and start looking ahead to his date with Duo. He wanted to make it an enjoyable outing—a change from the stressful interactions they'd had before.

Their sudden leap from acquaintances to a romantic couple up on the bluff had left Heero floundering a bit. On the one hand, he knew a lot about Duo's past and what kind of man he was; but on the other, they hadn't spent enough time together to be truly comfortable with one another yet.

Heero's visit to the post office had been an attempt to begin to ease them into a more relaxed relationship, where the friendship was as important as the romance. He knew he wanted that from Duo, and he was pretty certain Duo wanted the same. Hopefully their dinner out would increase their comfort level around each other and let them settle into things.

When Heero pulled into the driveway, he was pleased that the Bloom Circus truck was still there. He'd wanted to help with Sandy, and it looked like he was right on time. In fact, before he'd shut off the engine and gotten out of his car, Trowa, Catherine and a rather massively-built man Heero guessed was her boyfriend came walking down the steps to meet him.

"Great timing, 'Ro!" Trowa called cheerfully. "Heero, meet Sven—Sven, Heero."

"Pleased to meet you," Sven said warmly, shaking Heero's hand while Trowa grinned unabashedly at the slightly awed expression on his brother's face.

"Uh—likewise."

Trowa tugged on Heero's arm, turning him back towards the truck and trailer. "We're ready to show Sandy her new home, and need bait to lure her into the cage. Wanna be _it_?"

Heero raised an eyebrow, but smirked. "Sure. I'll go fetch my gun, just in case—."

"You'll do no such thing or I'll have Sven twist you up like a pretzel," Catherine huffed. "Sandy's a darling. More like a big kitten than a lion. She wouldn't hurt a fly."

"Consider her Leon's polar opposite," Trowa chimed in. "She was treated like a pet in her early years, and despite recent neglect she hasn't lost her friendly personality."

Heero followed them to the truck and the trailer hitched to the back. "We're still going to take the normal precautions, right?" he asked, keeping himself slightly behind the more experienced animal handlers.

"Define 'normal,'" Trowa said with a shrug, as Catherine opened the door of the trailer and casually reached in to attach a sturdy leash to the collar Sandy wore.

Heero backed up a step. "I was thinking more along the lines of the way they unloaded Leon—with poles with ropes on the end, and backed directly up to the pen—."

"Not necessary." Trowa boldly walked up and held out a hand, which Sandy sniffed and then nuzzled affectionately. "Seriously, 'Ro. She's passed every temperament test they've given—never shown the slightest sign of aggression or inconsistency. She's just one special cat."

"But—."

Trowa eyed him sternly. "That doesn't mean we'll be careless about handling her," he said firmly. "She'll have the same caging as Leon. And we won't assume she'll always be like a pet. I'll watch to see if she exhibits any instability at all." He scratched behind the tawny ears. "But—I also intend to keep her as friendly as possible by showing her some affection."

"You do that," Heero said flatly, never taking his gaze off the big cat.

Sandy looked back at him, flicked her tail once, and teasingly swiped a paw in the air.

"What was that for?" Heero demanded, scowling warily at Catherine and Trowa. "Some kind of threat?"

Catherine laughed and shook her head. "As a matter of fact, she knows tricks," she explained. "She once performed in a roadside exhibit. Wave hello, Sandy."

The lioness sat on her haunches and swiped a paw in the air again, looking pleased with herself when Catherine patted her head and Trowa laughed out loud.

"Great," Heero muttered. He fixed a stern glare on his brother. "Have you thought about how you'll explain her to Quatre?"

"What's to explain?" Trowa asked calmly. "We've got the temporary permit for her."

"Yes, but still—we haven't cleared our plan with the local zoning board. And I'm sure they'll balk at a rehab center for exotics, when they realize those exotics could theoretically _eat _the mayor."

Trowa raised an eyebrow. "Sounds kinky," he teased. "But maybe the mayor would like that—."

"It's not funny," Heero growled back. "You know how backwards these people are."

"I do. But I also hold out hope that we can prove a rehab center would be a good idea. It would keep the land as a farm, and have minimal impact on the town. There'd be no traffic, since it won't be open to the public and—."

Heero held up a hand. "I know the drill, Trowa. And I support you completely. But right now—."

He paused as Sandy paced to the end of the leash and stretched far enough to thoroughly lick his hand with a raspy, wet tongue.

"Right now—I need to go wash off some lion slobber before my date with Duo." He couldn't quite hide the enchanted smile as he gingerly stroked the golden head before saying a quick goodbye to Catherine and Sven and heading inside.


	45. First Dates

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU, yaoi, swearing, bigotry, some OOC

Pairings: 1X2 eventually, 3X4 also eventually

A/N: Sorry for the outrageous delay. Between migraines, work, and family chaos, it seems like I never get time alone for writing. It's SO hard to write with anyone in the room. I can't concentrate! Plus, this chapter did NOT want to end. I finally had to cut it and use a big chunk for the next one, or risk posting the Endless Chapter from Hell. At any rate, hope this meets with your approval. And I will try to keep my updates more timely from now on.

SMOKY HILLS

_"My grandfather passed away last winter, and it feels like the old farmstead will never be the same. He loved this place so very much. I can't help but feel at fault for his death. I'd gone calling on Sarah. (Granddad was very happy that I'd finally found a young woman who interested me!) While I was there, a blizzard moved in, and Sarah's father insisted I stay the night. When I fought my way home through the waist-deep drifts the next morning, I found the door ajar, the house as cold as a tomb, and grandfather and Thunder missing. I hoped maybe he'd just gone to a neighbor's house; maybe someone had checked on him early in the storm and convinced him to go where there would be other people. But my desperate hope was in vain. When I didn't find him at the nearest farm, I searched everywhere; or at least everywhere I could. The storm left all of Smoky Hills buried under a deep cover of snow, and bitter cold temperatures ensured it lasted. We didn't find the bodies until a few days later, when things thawed enough for a search. They were huddled together up on Washington Hill, under the shelter of an old pine...frozen solid...him and Thunder. I'll bet that old dog took after a varmint, and granddad chased after him; he loved that damned hound…"_

—_excerpt from the private journal of Samuel Barton_

Chapter Forty Five: First Dates

Duo had changed clothes no less than three times before Quatre finally snagged his wrist as he headed back up the stairs.

"You look _fine_!" Quatre asserted. "Better than fine. You look great."

Duo looked down at his black slacks and dark blue shirt. "But—I think the maroon might've been a little dressier."

"Dressy shmessy," Quatre growled, imitating Duo's tendency to play with words when he was being facetious. "It had those stupid little round buttons on the cuffs. This shirt looks way more—manly. Yes, manly." He was partly tired of being asked to evaluate Duo's frantically-assembled outfits, and partly dying to get his roommate out of the house so he could carry out his own plans.

As soon as Duo and Heero were gone, Quatre intended to take a ride out to the Barton farm to see Trowa. He had a ready made excuse—telling the green-eyed man about Rashid's new restoration technique for damaged documents. It seemed like the perfect 'in.'

He hadn't mentioned his plan to Duo, because he didn't want to deal with either Duo's teasing, or the incessant questions he was liable to ask.

"Manly?" Duo questioned, looking down at the dark, silky shirt. "I don't think so." He smoothed a sleeve.

"Well, it's not in a class with flannel for sheer lumberjack manliness," Quatre teased. "But it's a masculine color and cut, and it's obviously a dressy shirt. I totally think you should stick with it and scrap the maroon. _And _the black. You'd look hot in all black, but not nearly as classy—promise."

The sound of a car door shutting drew both their attention.

"Plus, you're out of time," Quatre threw in quickly. "Go grab a jacket and I'll answer the door."

Duo let out something between a yelp and a cheer, and dashed back up to his room to grab his leather jacket.

Quatre heaved a sigh of sheer relief and went to the door, opening it right on the heels of Heero's knock. His intended greeting flew right out the window when he saw how totally hot Duo's date looked.

"Wow."

Heero blinked at him, and then followed his gaze down the form-fitting shirt and flattering slacks. "Oh." He blushed slightly as he looked up from under his bangs. "So, I look okay?"

"Better than okay," Quatre admitted reluctantly. "Duo will be—." He shook his head, and fixed a stern gaze on the Japanese man. "You said you wouldn't take advantage and I'll hold you to that."

Heero looked outright puzzled, but he nodded. "I have no intention of rushing Duo into anything physical."

"Yeah, well—dressed like that, you might have to fend him off," Quatre said bluntly.

"Oh." Heero managed a smirk. "Should I go home and see if Trowa's got a gunny sack out in the barn I could wear?"

Quatre couldn't help smiling back. "It might be better for Duo's libido," he suggested. "But no. You look fine."

They both turned at the patter of feet on the stairs as Duo hurried down to join them, tugging his well-worn leather jacket on over his shirt. "I hope this is okay—."

He paused as he saw Heero and Quatre in the doorway. "Wow—'Ro," he murmured appreciatively.

Heero was too busy undressing Duo with his eyes to respond, until Quatre firmly elbowed him in the side. "Oh! Right! Hi, Duo," he blurted hastily. "You look—great."

"Yeah? Well you don't look so bad yourself," Duo purred, walking closer and unabashedly ogling his date. "I mean, I liked the way you looked that first time you came into the post office. But this—this is just really awesome icing on the cake. You clean up _amazing_!"

"And you don't?" Heero countered.

Quatre rolled his eyes. "Yes, you both look good enough to eat. Now why don't you get on your way before you miss dinner altogether, hm? _Some _of us have things of our own to do this evening."

Duo paused, glancing almost apologetically at his boss as he realized Quatre would be spending the evening alone, while he waltzed off with a gorgeous new boyfriend. "You gonna be okay?" he asked quietly. "I mean—."

Quatre clapped a hand over his mouth and glared. "Duo Maxwell, you are not trying to apologize for having a date, are you? I'll kick your butt!" He pushed Duo away, smiling and shaking his head. "You go have a great time. I have plenty to occupy myself, and contrary to popular belief, I don't require your constant company."

"That's good," Heero spoke up, daring to tease the blonde. "Because I plan to steal as much of his time as you're willing to give up."

Duo blushed and slipped an arm around Heero's waist, giving him a welcoming squeeze. "That is _so _sweet."

"Yes, yes," Quatre sighed. "You're both adorable as hell…now would you _go_?"

Duo gave him a suspicious look, sensing that he had ulterior motives. "You're in a big hurry to see us off, Quat. Got plans, do you?"

"As a matter of fact, I do. Among other things, I have some calls to make, and I wanted to finalize the menu for the cookout and—."

"Oh God!" Duo yelped. "You're reverting to type, Quat. Do you hear yourself? 'Finalize the menu?' You're starting to sound Winner-ish again."

"I am not!" Quatre retorted, blushing in spite of himself. "I can't help my choice of words, Duo. It's just the way I talk."

"It's _fancy_," Duo noted. "You've got to just dumb it down a bit. Say you have to make a shopping list or something—not 'finalize the menu.' Okay?"

Heero took a firm grip on Duo's arm, tugging him towards the door. "Leave Quatre alone, Duo," he urged. "Let's just go have a nice evening. Your roommate can make a shopping list, finalize a menu, or dye his hair black for all I care. But I'd like to get you to the restaurant before we starve to death."

Duo smirked back over his shoulder at Quatre as he exited the house with Heero. "Don't wait up, honeybunch!"

"You know I will, lamby-pie!"

Heero sighed as he ushered Duo down the steps towards his car. "Are you two always like that?"

"This from the guy whose brother never lets up," Duo scoffed. "You and Tro' are the same way."

Heero smiled in spite of himself. "I guess we are." He opened the car door for Duo, and the braided man hesitated, giving him a sideways glance before sliding in.

When Heero got in the driver's side, Duo looked over with a cross between a smirk and a scowl. "You know, I'm not a girl, Yuy."

Heero snorted. "I hope not, or this date will be a big waste of time."

"So, ya don't hafta open doors for me, or stuff like that."

Heero rolled his eyes. "It's a habit, Duo. I've been driving Trowa around so much, it got to be second nature to open the door while he was using crutches." He gave the other man a flat, stern look. "I have no intention of treating you like a girl. I was just being helpful."

"Okay then," Duo said with a nod. "Just makin' sure we understand each other."

"We do."

They pulled out of the driveway onto the road, and Duo settled more comfortably into the seat, watching the familiar scenery slide past.

"Y'know some day Quat and I will have to take you to Sal's diner and introduce you around."

Heero gave a small smile. "I'd like that."

"Seriously?" Duo asked, his expression turning a bit pensive. "I mean—you _know _what folks are like in this town. Guilt by association and all—."

"I thought we already discussed this," Heero said calmly. "I don't care what anyone in this town thinks—except for you, and maybe Quatre."

"Yes, but if you hang out with me—."

"I thought we already discussed that, too," Heero interrupted. "First off, I intend to do more than just hang out with you. And secondly, I don't care if the whole world knows it." He shook his head. "I'll admit, while the investigation into Solo's death is in progress, we should probably be discrete. But there's no reason Trowa and I can't be seen with you and Quatre." He raised an eyebrow. "Surely they allow friendships in this town?"

"Well, yeah—but in my case, folks are gonna speculate about any guy who spends too much time in my company."

Heero smirked, recalling Ralph's suspicions about Quatre. "Yes, they probably will," he acknowledged. "But considering what I've seen of the IQs around here, they probably won't figure it out much before the turn of the next century."

Duo chuckled. "You can't judge everyone by Ralph, Otto and Trant. We _do _have some smart folks; and nice ones, too." He launched into a description of his more personable and colorful customers, like Mrs. Heinz and her fussy neighbor, keeping Heero entertained most of the way to the restaurant.

* * *

While Duo and Heero were off on their much-anticipated first date, Quatre gathered up the notes he'd made while talking to Rashid and headed out to the Barton farm.

Since he'd been there once before, delivering the express mail, he felt a lot less self-conscious about knocking on the door. And when Trowa's face lit up at the sight of him, the last of his uneasiness faded away.

"Hi."

"Yeah, hi," Trowa echoed, grinning widely. "What brings you all the way out here?" He paused, reviewing that sentence in his head, and gave a slight frown. "I mean—not that I'm not glad to see you. I _am_. Very." He caught himself sputtering and tried to get a grip. "Um—wanna come in?"

Feeling a bit more in control of the situation, Quatre nodded, hefting his armful of notebooks. "I've got information from Rashid."

Trowa pushed the two curious dogs back and ushered Quatre into the house. "Don't mind the hounds," he said as they crowded around the blonde. "They're gentle."

"Yes, I remember," Quatre laughed, holding the papers above licking range. "Is there somewhere I can set this down?"

"Sure. Kitchen—that way," Trowa told him.

They made their way to the most-used room in the house, and Quatre laid down his books on the checkered tablecloth. "This is a nice place—very homey."

"It's getting there," Trowa said with a sigh. "Took ages, and Heero did most of the work, but it's livable now. Would you like coffee or tea or something?"

"Tea would be great," Quatre replied, wondering if he should have brought along that coffee with a shot of whiskey Heero had mentioned.

While Trowa worked on preparing tea for them both, Quatre settled at the table and enjoyed the view of the slender, graceful man moving around the room.

"Is Rashid going to look at the books?" Trowa asked, making conversation as he worked.

"Yes. As a matter of fact, he's very eager to see them. He has a new restoration process he thinks might be of use on the water damaged ones."

Trowa glanced over his shoulder, catching Quatre's gaze drifting from his butt up to his face and hiding a smirk. "That's great," he said warmly. "I'd really like to be able to read them all eventually."

"If anyone can make that happen, it's Rashid," Quatre assured him, smiling disarmingly and hoping Trowa hadn't noticed the ogling.

Trowa set two mugs on the counter, waiting for the water to boil. "I don't want to get my hopes up too much," he told the blonde. "But I think some of the water damaged journals might give us a clue about Solo's death."

"Really? Why do you say that?"

"Well—." Trowa turned to face Quatre, leaning back against the counter. "My grandfather—Dekim Senior—knew this farm like the back of his hand. His last couple of journals have dozens of descriptions of the hills and the trails. And he made reference to there being some deep, dark secrets in this town."

"Wow."

Trowa turned back around shrugging. "Of course, that might be nothing more than the ravings of a delusional old man. He also claimed he'd seen the ghost of Ephraim Barton and his dog Thunder."

"No kidding?"

Trowa shook his head. "You'd have to read it to believe some of his ramblings. Pretty nutty stuff, some of it. But—." His voice trailed off as he recalled the kinship he'd felt to his grandfather while reading his journals.

"You believe him," Quatre said firmly.

Trowa turned sharply, blushing and ducking his head. "Will you think I'm crazy if I do?"

"Not at all," Quatre replied.

Trowa looked up shyly. "Thanks." He turned back to pour the water into the cups with the tea bags in them. "You might reconsider that after you've had a look at them."

"You'll let me read them?" Quatre asked almost breathlessly.

"You want to?"

"Of course!" Quatre sat on the edge of his seat, leaning closer. "They sound fascinating—the collected memories of whole generations of Bartons! The ones you brought to the library were just incredible."

"There's a lot more," Trowa told him. "I just showed you the first couple of Ephraim's books and the damaged ones. But there are a bunch more—from Ephraim, his grandson Samuel, and then Dekim." His face darkened a little. "The only missing generation is Jacob, Ephraim's son. He went off to fight in the Civil War and died there."

Quatre frowned pensively. "Hey—Duo said something about him! When we were camping—. He said the ghost of Annabelle Barton was supposed to haunt these hills—that she was married to the Barton who fought and died in the Civil War."

"She was," Trowa confirmed, bringing over the tea and setting it on the table. "Ephraim wrote about her. She was married to Jacob." He settled into the seat opposite Quatre. "Duo was right about that."

"Yes, but I'll bet the rest is all bogus," Quatre said with a shake of his head. "The legend holds that she only married Jacob after her true love died, and that she was pregnant when he went off to war. She died in childbirth supposedly—hence the restless spirit."

"Jesus, Quat," Trowa murmured. "That's exactly what happened!"

"It is?"

"Yes. Jacob's best friend Aaron died in an accident," Trowa explained. "Actually Ephraim suspected Jacob was involved, and later found out they'd had some sort of fight that led to Aaron falling off some cliff or waterfall or something."

Quatre's eyes widened as he recalled the waterfall he and Duo had visited on their camping trip.

"Annabelle married Jacob, but then he took off to fight in the war. Ephraim figured his guilty conscience made him do it. But at any rate, when Annabelle died having Samuel, Ephraim ended up raising him." Trowa's green eyes gleamed with curiosity. "So there are ghost stories?"

"Apparently lots of them," Quatre said with a thoughtful frown. "Duo said the local kids used to check out the cemeteries on Halloween and claimed to see Annabelle's ghost. He's even seen things himself that he couldn't explain."

"I'd really like to talk to him about those stories," Trowa said eagerly. "Heero got me a book on the history of Smoky Hills—but it didn't include any of the legends or stories. It was pretty much just facts and land records and stuff. I'd like to know how much of what Ephraim wrote about was handed down through local folklore."

"Sounds like quite a bit," Quatre commented, trying to recall anything else Duo might have told him about the Barton farm. He picked up his cup and sipped the tea. "This is delicious."

"It's Heero's," Trowa said a bit guiltily. "He and Wufei used to—." He stopped abruptly, realizing that talking about his brother's ex was probably not a good idea—not when he was sitting with Duo's best friend. "Well, it's his favorite blend. Kind of hard to find—but he says it's worth the effort."

"I agree. Very tasty," Quatre said appreciatively, apparently overlooking Trowa's conversational stumble. "So—about the journals—. Rashid's new process is still in the experimental stages—but he's had some encouraging results."

"Experimental?" Trowa asked carefully. "There's no chance the process could ruin the journals, is there?"

"Well, actually, yes," Quatre said carefully. "It depends on the type of paper and ink used in them, as well as their condition to begin with. But in a couple of cases, Rashid's process pretty much dissolved the documents he was attempting to restore."

Trowa winced. "I'm not sure I want to risk that," he said with a frown. "I mean, sure the journals are unreadable while they're stuck shut with water damage. But at least I _have _them."

"I've thought of that," Quatre assured him. "Rashid would test the chemicals on a tiny piece of a page before risking an entire journal. And he'd test each and every one separately before proceeding—not assume they are all the same. He's very skilled, Trowa, or I'd never even suggest you risk your family's historical documents."

Trowa looked into the big, blue eyes and his thoughts immediately drifted away from the journals and onto more enticing ideas. "I—trust you," he said with difficulty, trying to keep the thread of the conversation going. "If you think we should let Rashid work on the journals, I'll go along with it."

Quatre impulsively reached across the table to take Trowa's hand. "I promise, I'll have Rashid use _every _precaution."

"Thanks."

"As a matter of fact," Quatre added. "I think it would be a bad idea to ship the journals to him. I don't want to risk loss or damage by putting them into the mail."

Trowa's eyes widened. "But you work for the Post Office! I'd think you'd trust the mail—."

"Actually, I know too much about what can happen to packages—not necessarily through mishandling, but due to automation and the way they're transported." Quatre smiled a bit sheepishly. "Something as precious as your journals should be safeguarded better than that. I was thinking of driving up to the museum with them—a weekend trip."

"Oh, no—I couldn't ask you to go all that way!" Trowa protested. Quatre had told him where the facility was located, and he knew it would be a long haul. "That's too much driving for one person."

A tinge of pink touched Quatre's cheeks, and he looked up from under silky lashes. "You could—come along—? We could drive out on a Saturday—get a hotel room, and drive back Sunday." As Trowa's eyes widened, Quatre's blush deepened and he ducked his head. "I mean—I'm not suggesting anything—improper. But it's a really long trip. You can't do it in one day."

Trowa squeezed the hand that was still holding his. "Quatre—I'd be perfectly willing to share a hotel room with you." He smiled wickedly, feeling daring. "Improper or otherwise."

Quatre looked up sharply, just in time for Trowa to lean across the table and press their lips together.

"Mmm," Quatre purred, totally forgetting about journals, tea, and weekend trips. It was much too nice focusing on the warm lips caressing his, and the teasing swipe of a tongue that prompted him to open his mouth and deepen the kiss.

Trowa pulled back first, face flushed and eyes gleaming. "Well—I've been wanting to do that for the longest damn time—."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"I've been wanting you to," Quatre confessed.

"Well, damn," Trowa sighed. "Sorry I waited so long." He swooped in again, eager to make up for lost time.

"Better late than never," Quatre assured him between kisses, as they eased their chairs closer so they could indulge a bit more.

* * *

While Trowa and Quatre were finally making progress on the romance front, Heero and Duo were enjoying a genuinely pleasant dinner.

The hostess had apparently guessed that they were more than a pair of friends out for a bite to eat, and she'd seated them on a glass-enclosed terrace overlooking a picturesque lake.

There were the obligatory water lilies and cattails, as well as the soft trilling of frogs and insects; there was even a pair of snow-white swans gliding elegantly across the smooth water as the sun was setting behind the trees.

"I had no idea there was such a nice place this close to home," Duo couldn't help commenting, as he was finishing off his meal.

"You really need to get out more," Heero teased.

"Yeah, well, now that I have incentive, maybe I'll do that," Duo teased back. His gaze drifted back to the lake, and his eyes widened. "Aw, look! The swans have babies!"

Sure enough, when Heero looked there were two little cygnets trailing along behind the adult swans.

He turned his gaze back to Duo's face, studying the rapt expression; the glimmer of the indigo eyes, the wistful smile on those kissable lips, and the glow of the smooth skin leading down to the collar of his shirt. "_Goddamn_, you're beautiful," he murmured.

Predictably enough, Duo blushed and glanced away self-consciously.

"Get used to hearing it," Heero advised, taking a sip from his drink.

"Might take awhile," Duo mumbled in reply. Then he realized that almost sounded coy, and he looked up quickly. "I mean—it's not that I'm fishing for compliments—."

"I know you aren't," Heero assured him. "That's probably your most attractive trait—that you genuinely have no idea how good looking you are." He shook his head. "On the one hand, I'm a little appalled you've been kept in the dark about it. But on the other, I guess I'm glad I'll get to be the one to enlighten you."

Duo smirked at the husky tone. "Are we still just talking about my looks?"

Heero just smiled enigmatically, thinking of the many things about which he'd like to enlighten Duo.

"Tease," Duo accused. "But whatever you do, don't stop."

"Not planning to."

_Ever._

Heero's breath nearly caught in his throat at the stray thought. Was he really that serious about this—thinking in terms of forever? It was too soon, wasn't it? Their relationship was barely beginning, and there was no telling how, or even if, it would progress. Duo was so damned innocent about some things, and Heero was half afraid he'd scare him off if he got too serious too fast, and half afraid he wouldn't.

Fortunately, the waitress returned at that moment to bring the dessert menu, interrupting the troubling train of thought, and Heero breathed a sigh of relief as he turned his attention to selecting dessert.

The two men ended up splitting a slice of cheesecake, since both were rather full after the meal, and when the check was paid, they decided to go for a stroll along the footpath by the lake.

The trail wound between low shrubs and ornamental trees, before turning a corner into a more secluded loop, closer to the water and just out of sight of both the restaurant and the parking lot. Apparently it was a regular occurrence for patrons to walk by the shore, because someone had placed small solar-powered lights at regular intervals to help guide them. And while it wasn't quite dark out, it was dusky enough that the lights were beginning to flicker on.

"Damn, 'Ro—this is a _really _nice place," Duo commented. He gestured around them. "Someone put a lotta thought into this. Y'got the lake, which is pretty enough on its own. But then there's the way they planted stuff along the walkway."

Heero gave him a sort of bemused smile. "What way?"

Duo's eyes widened. "Don't you know what some of these plants are?" He pointed out a low, shrubby plant with spiky purple flowers. "That's Salvia. Bees and butterflies love it. Attracts all kinds of things. And the stuff further down there is a type of sage." He waved a hand at the hillside leading to the lake. "Pretty much everything around here is either attractive to birds and bugs, or has a fragrance to make it more inviting. It's like the stereotypical romantic setting—."

Heero's smile had widened, and Duo fell silent, looking quizzically at him. "What? Do I have food on my face or something?"

"No." Heero reached out suddenly to catch Duo's hands and pull him in for a lingering kiss. When he let him up for breath, he brushed the bangs back and looked deeply into the dark eyes. "D'you know how sexy you are when you talk about something that excites you?"

"I am?"

"Yes, you are. Your face lights up, and your eyes sparkle—you just _glow_—." He swooped in for another kiss, loving the way Duo melted into his embrace and wrapped his arms tightly around him in return.

It was several minutes before either one of them surrendered to the need to breathe. And by that time they were pressed up against each other, with one of Duo's legs hooked around the back of Heero's, while Heero had one between Duo's. The braided man's back was against a convenient tree trunk for support; otherwise they might have ended up horizontal by then.

"See what I mean about the plants?" Duo said with a smirk. "Sets a mood, doesn't it? The smells—the sounds—the lights from the fireflies—."

Heero gave a wry snort. "It's not the setting. It's _you_," he said flatly. "I'd want you just as much in a stinking alley, for fuck's sake!"

Duo laughed. "You say the most romantic things!" And he rewarded Heero with another kiss, grinding their hips together at the same time.

The intensely pleasurable friction drew a helpless groan from Heero, and he found his hands seeking purchase on Duo's ass, trying to bring them even closer together if that were possible.

"Oh God," Duo gasped, his hands on Heero's shoulders gripping nearly hard enough to hurt. "Feels _so _good."

_No shit, _was the thought that crossed Heero's mind, even as he was considering the best way to get rid of all the clothing between them. He'd actually braced one hand against the tree, and was sliding the other around to reach for the snap on Duo's pants, when the sound of a car door slamming in the not-too-distant parking lot brought him back to the here and now.

He broke the kiss and drew back enough so he wasn't pressing Duo against the tree any more. He also brought his hands up so they were against Duo's back, instead of his ass.

Duo gave him a quizzical look at the sudden pause. "'Ro?"

"Sorry," he rasped hoarsely, glancing aside to make sure they were still out of anyone's line of sight. "Didn't mean to get carried away there—."

"You weren't," Duo said without hesitation. "Did you hear me complaining?"

"No, but—."

Duo's eyes narrowed perceptively. "Listen. Quatre means well, but he's not my keeper—."

"Quatre's not the reason I stopped," Heero said firmly. "We're not exactly in a private place here, Duo. I don't know about you, but I'm not an exhibitionist."

"Oh." Duo blinked and looked around them. "Didn't think about that," he admitted. "I'm so used to being out in really remote places when I hike—. I kinda forgot there's a whole restaurant full of people only a few yards away." A mischievous sparkle glimmered in his eyes. "I meant what I said about the setting, though. There's something about being outside—."

Heero didn't know whether he was teasing or serious, so he decided to just play along. "There's also a lot to be said for a nice, comfy mattress."

Duo chuckled, relaxing in his arms. "What? You don't want to experience sex in the great outdoors? Picking pine needles out of your butt?"

"Like you and Solo?" Heero said with a shake of his head. "That rock up on the bluff was _not _my idea of a good place to make out—."

"But you did it anyway," Duo reminded him cheekily.

"And I've probably still got bruises on my knees." Heero ran a finger down the slender nose, and leaned in to kiss it. "If you want a natural setting, I'll be happy to put on a tape of woodland sounds, spray some nice pine fragrance, and toss a few leaves onto the comforter—on my _bed_."

Duo grinned in delight. "And when would this be happening?"

Heero sobered a little. "When you're ready for it," he said gently.

Duo rolled his eyes. "Jesus, Yuy—I'm twenty-four—."

"I'm not talking about your age," Heero interrupted. "I'm talking about all that's going on in your life right now. And in mine. We don't need to rush things."

Duo sighed, leaning his head back against the tree. "I s'pose," he mumbled. "But you go talking about beds and mood-setting—." He shook his head. "You _are _a fucking tease, 'Ro."

"And you're not?"

A faint smirk broke through Duo's attempted scowl. "So yeah. Maybe I am. Sometimes. And maybe sometimes I really need physical contact—an' I'm not talking about contact sports, either." He looked squarely and seriously at Heero. "It feels _really _great to be held and touched and kissed. By _you_. An' I want more of it. A _lot _more."

"You'll get it," Heero promised. "Trust me on that. You have no idea how much I want to just—." He broke off and shook his head, biting his tongue to keep from blurting out all the things he'd like to do to the slender body in his arms.

Duo seemed to catch on anyway, and a pleased smile graced his lips. "I promise I'll let you know if you're going too fast for me—okay?"

Heero smirked. "I'm not entirely sure I can trust your judgment."

Duo gave him an affronted look. "You think I'm some kind of sex maniac, don't you?"

"I think you've led a very deprived life," Heero said with a grin.

"I have. And it pains me to think you'd let me stay deprived a moment longer," Duo said with a grin of his own.

Heero tightened his hold around Duo's waist, bringing them into closer contact again. "Then I guess I won't," he said in a husky voice. "I certainly can't take you home—unsatisfied, now can I?"

"Absolutely not," Duo agreed, leaning in for a kiss.

But before they could consider exactly how far they wanted to take things right then and there, the sound of voices leaving the restaurant and heading down the path interrupted their private moment.

"Sonofa—," Duo muttered under his breath, reaching to straighten his clothes at the same time as Heero did.

The Japanese man couldn't help chuckling at the frustrated look on his boyfriend's face. "Don't worry. We'll find a more private place next time."

"Damn right we will," Duo said peevishly, heading back up the path just as a family of four turned the corner. He smiled politely at them and nodded as they passed—the two children scurrying into the grass to try to catch fireflies, while the parents strolled along holding hands.

Heero said a polite "Good evening," before striding quickly after Duo, catching up near the start of the footpath, and reaching to take him by the hand. "Hey. Slow down."

Duo obeyed, but glanced down at their linked hands, and then in the direction the family had gone.

"I don't care if someone sees us holding hands," Heero reminded him. He tightened his grip and gave an affectionate smile. "But anything more than that is ours and ours alone—not for public viewing."

A reluctant smile touched Duo's lips. "God—you are _so _sappy sometimes."

"Only over you," Heero told him, reaching to cup his face in one hand.

Duo looked at the blue eyes, and saw a warmth that took him back to the night he'd brought Thor home with an injured paw. "Whoa—I was right," he said breathlessly.

"About what?"

Duo shook his head. "Nothing." He slipped an arm around Heero, basking in the satisfaction of having been on the receiving end of that look he'd once envied.

"Nothing?" Heero asked suspiciously as they headed towards the car.

"Nothing I can explain right now," Duo hedged. "It's been an absolutely perfect night, Yuy. Don't spoil the mood."

Heero smiled to himself, pleased that their date had met with Duo's approval. "It _has _been nice, hasn't it?" He glanced aside at his boyfriend. "So we can do it again soon?"

"Any time, Yuy," Duo assured him with a dazzling smile. "_Any_ time."


	46. Into the Mystery

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU, yaoi, swearing, bigotry, some OOC

Pairings: 1X2 eventually, 3X4 also eventually

A/N: No excuse for how long this has taken. Too much going on in life, but since writing is my escape and solace, I should never let it lapse for so long. I will do better, for anyone who's hanging in there and still reading this.

SMOKY HILLS

_"The farm isn't the same without grandpa and Thunder. I miss the sound of that old dog baying while he's on a scent, and my granddad's calls and whistles to keep him in line. I miss...a lot of things. Had a bit of a run-in with the local minister, who wanted Ephraim buried in the Christian cemetery beside grandma and my mother. But I know grandpa always wanted his final resting place to be here on this farm. I took him and Thunder up to the ridge where they always went to watch the sunrises. Buried them in the dead of night, so no local busybodies could mess things up. It was pretty hard chiseling through the frozen ground with a pickaxe, but once I got down below the frost line, I was able to dig a proper enough grave to suit them both. And to Hell with anyone who doesn't like the way I did it. As granddad always said, 'the Bartons take care of their own.'…"_

—_excerpt from the private journal of Samuel Barton_

Chapter Forty Six: Into the Mystery

When the shrill ring of the telephone interrupted Trowa and Quatre's impromptu make-out session, the green-eyed man muttered a curse.

"I should get that," he sighed, running a thumb over Quatre's lips.

"Hm," Quatre replied noncommittally.

"Hm," Trowa echoed, leaning in for another kiss.

But the caller was persistent, and when the phone kept ringing, Trowa pulled away again. "Sonofa—!" He got up, pausing to put a warm hand on Quatre's shoulder. "Wait here. Won't take me a minute."

He grabbed the phone and glared as if the speaker on the other end could actually see him. "Barton residence!"

"Chang here," came a curt, irritated reply. "I need to speak to Yuy."

"He's out," Trowa said equally irritably. Then he brightened, and an evil gleam entered his eyes. "On a date," he threw in smugly.

"A date?"

Was that a hint of jealousy Trowa detected? He smiled to himself. "Yes, Chang, a date. And I don't plan to wait up for him. I'll leave him a note that you called."

"Wait!" Chang snapped out hastily. "Just—tell him I've ruled his suspicious death case a homicide. The victim died of blunt force trauma. I found shards of rock embedded in the back of the skull from repeated blows to the head, and I expect to match them to samples my crew collected from the bluff today."

"Whoa," Trowa breathed. "Really? You think they found the place the murder happened?"

"I can't be sure yet; but I trust Heero's instincts. If he believes the murder took place on that bluff, I fully expect the evidence to support such a conclusion."

"Yeah, me too," Trowa said quietly. "Heero knew from the start there wasn't any way this was some kind of accident. When we found that first bone, he knew."

"As I said, his gut feelings are rarely wrong," came the firm reply.

Trowa almost snorted aloud, reflecting that Heero's ill-fated relationship with Wufei hadn't been much of a testimonial to his instincts. "Okay, well, I'll leave him a detailed note about your findings," he told his brother's ex-lover. "I'm sure he'll call to discuss them. Maybe tomorrow."

There was a momentary pause. "A date? With whom?"

"None of your business."

"Look, Barton, despite what you think, I _do _care about Heero. I think I have the right to ask who's in his life—."

"No you don't!" Trowa snarled. "You gave up that right when you dumped him."

"That's between Heero and me," came an icy reply. "It's up to him to decide how much he tells me—not you."

"He's not going to tell you jack shit," Trowa insisted.

"That just goes to show how little you know about our relationship—he told me everything—."

"That was before you broke his heart!" Trowa retorted. "I think you'll find things have changed—drastically."

"I'll be the judge of—."

"God, there's that ego again!" Trowa sneered, his voice dripping with disdain. "Get over yourself, Chang. Heero did."

He hung up the phone with a resounding crash, and stomped back into the kitchen where Quatre looked up in surprise. "That—didn't sound good," the blonde said carefully.

"Oh, shit. Sorry," Trowa said contritely. "How much did you hear?"

"Um—I wasn't trying to listen—," Quatre said hesitantly. "I didn't hear much of the conversation—just the tone of your voice. But you sounded pretty angry at the end there."

"I was. Some people need to learn when to butt out of people's lives."

Quatre smiled wryly. "I know that feeling. Between having dozens of sisters and an overbearing father, I know it well."

Trowa's temper cooled as he looked at the blonde, and he leaned in for a quick kiss. But he pulled back just as quickly, and gave a smile of his own. "I want to hear all about your family. I want you to be able to tell me anything and everything."

"I'm sure there'll be plenty of time for that when we take our trip to the museum," Quatre pointed out. "Like I said, it's a very long drive." His gaze drifted to the darkness outside the kitchen window. "Speaking of which—I should probably head home. I'm not as familiar with these back roads as Duo, and I always worry about deer jumping out in front of the car. It's happened a lot around here."

"I wouldn't want anything like that to happen to you!" Trowa asserted quickly. "Much as I'd like you to stick around, you do have a bit of a drive home." He pulled Quatre to his feet and into his arms for a lingering kiss. "I'd offer to take you—but Heero's got the car tonight."

"That's sweet, but unnecessary," Quatre assured him. "I'll be fine." He smirked up at the auburn-haired man. "Of course, I wouldn't mind if you wanted to walk me out. It's pretty dark out there."

"I'll protect you," Trowa promised. "From everything except me, that is."

They headed for the door hand in hand.

"I need protecting from you?" Quatre asked coyly as they stepped out onto the porch.

"Absolutely," Trowa answered, tugging him close for another kiss. "I'm seriously considering keeping you here permanently."

"Really?" Quatre teased back. "And what would you do with me?"

"Whatever you wanted," Trowa replied, running his fingers through the silky blonde hair.

"Oh—so I wouldn't be your slave, hm?" Quatre dared to flirt still more. "Catering to your every whim?"

Trowa blinked, his errant thoughts not having quite made that leap yet. But it sounded pretty damned inviting. "I never had a sex slave before," he mused with a smirk. "But I think I like you better just like this. Equals."

Quatre smiled brilliantly at him. "Trowa Barton, you know exactly the right things to say, don't you?"

"I just say what I feel," Trowa admitted, realizing this might be the first time he'd done that with a potential lover. Usually he was much more guarded about what he shared. He shook his head with a bemused smirk. "You have a strange effect on me, Quatre." He pulled away and tugged on his hand, heading towards the car. "C'mon and let's get you on your way before I say too much."

"I like what you have to say," Quatre pouted. But he let himself be ushered to the car.

Then he was behind the wheel, and Trowa was leaning in the open window for a goodbye kiss, and before he knew it, he was starting up the engine and driving off, still a bit amazed by how well the visit had gone. He'd hoped to get closer—but hadn't expected so much outright progress.

"Go me," he said with a dreamy sigh, flipping on the headlights as he left the glow of the front lights of the house.

Just as he did, the high beams flashed across the side of the big barn, and in an upper window, Quatre saw the gleam of two big, greenish eyes. He gasped aloud, and nearly jerked the steering wheel hard enough to go off into the grass beside the driveway. But then he quickly corrected himself and managed to keep the car straight as he pulled past the barn and headed down the dark, forested lane towards the road.

"What the _fuck _was that?" he muttered, realizing his hands were shaking a little.

_A cat, he thought to himself. It had to be a cat, right? What else would be in a musty old barn, peeking out a window?_

Even as he considered the possibility, he knew the eyes had been too big and too far apart to be an ordinary barn cat.

"Okay," he said in his most soothing voice. "There's a reasonable explanation. I'm tired. I imagined it." He nodded to himself. "That's it. Duo said he saw something in that barn, and it just gave me ideas. Power of suggestion."

Granted, that didn't explain why he'd see strange, glowing eyes when he was so totally fixated on Trowa. The last thing on his mind would have been Duo's ghost tales.

He rubbed a hand across his eyes as he pulled out onto the road. "Just need a good night's sleep, and I'll be right as rain," he told himself.

* * *

Meanwhile, back at the farm, Trowa watched the taillights of the car disappear into the darkness, and smiled dreamily, letting his mind wander back to the feel of Quatre in his arms and how very good those lips had tasted. He couldn't wait for more.

A restless yowl from the barn made him jerk his head up sharply and tear his thoughts away from the pleasant daydream.

"Okay, Leon!" he called. "Coming!"

He decided to do his late night check of the lions right then, rather than waiting for Heero to get home. For all he knew, his brother might get luckier than he did, and not come home at all.

He strolled across the yard and pulled the key from his pocket, unlocking the padlock and letting himself into the dark interior of the barn. But before he could reach for the light switch there was a low growl and something slammed into his chest, knocking him to the ground. He struggled, feeling a heavy weight settle on his midsection, and then caught a whiff of sour breath just as a raspy tongue began licking the side of his face.

"S-Sandy?" he managed to squeak out breathlessly, hoping it was her and not Leon pinning him to the ground.

He was greeted with a sort of purring growl, and managed to get an arm free and push at the large creature. "Get off!" he gasped out trying to sound stern.

The weight eased, and he was able to sit up, and finally disentangle himself and stand.

He felt a big head rub against his side as he staggered over and fumbled to turn the lights on, breathing a sigh of relief when he saw the lioness standing looking smug and docile.

"Jesus!" he breathed, his heart still racing. "Damn! You took years off my life you silly cat!"

Sandy sat in place and looked quizzically at him, half-raising a paw as if hoping a cute trick would settle him down.

"Silly," he chuckled, gradually regaining his composure.

He looked around the barn, wondering how on earth the big cat had escaped her cage. The door was ajar, when he knew full well he'd closed _and _locked it earlier.

His gaze immediately flew to Leon's door, and he let out a relieved gust of air when he saw it was secure. "Good thing you weren't the one who got out," he sighed, approaching the big lion, who was standing by the bars watching Sandy.

As if to prove his concerns were well-founded, Leon let out a low growl and swiped at him with a paw before withdrawing to the other side of his pen.

"Surly old thing." Trowa walked back to Sandy's cage and checked the latch, making sure it functioned properly. "Come over here, Sandy."

The lioness walked right up to him, and at a gesture went into the enclosure, settling onto her sleeping mat.

Even as he relocked the cage, Trowa was pulling out his cell phone and dialing Cathy's number.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Cath, it's Trowa. Say—you didn't happen to stop in to say 'bye' to Sandy and maybe leave the cage unlocked, did you?"

"Trowa Barton! You know better!" she declared. "I did stop in to give her a goodbye kiss, but I never went near the door. Why?"

He scowled at the lock. There was no way that cage could have come unlocked _and_ unlatched on its own. "Is Sandy some sort of escape artist?"

"Not that I know of," Catherine answered. "Why, Trowa? What's up?"

"Nothing much. Just—she got loose inside the barn just now." He shook his head. "Maybe Heero checked on her before leaving for his date or something." But he didn't believe it even as he said it.

"I thought you guys kept the barn locked, too," Catherine said with concern. "There's no way someone else could have gotten in, is there?"

"Not that I know of," Trowa shrugged. "Look—sorry to bother you so late. I'll ask Heero about this when he gets home. I'm sure there's a perfectly normal explanation."

_Normal indeed._

After bidding Catherine an absent-minded good night and hanging up his phone, Trowa looked around the barn warily, deciding the only reasonable explanation was that the latch on Sandy's door hadn't been shut properly when they first locked her in. "Maybe we should invest in a more sophisticated latch."

As he went to the cooler for a couple of evening snacks for the two big cats, he recalled the box he'd set down when Catherine and Sven arrived, and he looked around for it.

"What the fuck?" he muttered, seeing it nowhere in the immediate area. He was quite sure he'd placed it somewhere near the stairs.

"I'm losing my marbles," he sighed, wondering if he'd imagined the whole thing. But then he felt a weight in his pocket and reached in to retrieve the handful of marbles he'd recovered along with the box. "Heh—literally," he chuckled.

Stuffing the marbles back in his pocket, he grabbed the flashlight and headed back up the stairs, nearly tripping over the wooden box on the top step.

"What the—?" he blurted. "I _know _I didn't leave this here!"

He grabbed the box and brought it back down, looking accusingly over at Sandy. "Did you maybe help yourself, kitten? There's nothing in this box for you, I'm quite sure." He looked down at the box as he spoke, and his eyes widened as he read the letters carved onto the top for the first time. "Samuel! Shit—this must've belonged to my great-grandfather!"

Trowa ran his fingers over the carving, a smile curving his lips. "Ephraim said he used to play out in the barn and the woods all the time. Must've hidden his treasures up in the loft."

He was momentarily torn—thinking maybe he should put the box back where he'd found it, out of respect. But then curiosity won out and he decided it couldn't hurt to have a quick peek at the contents first.

"G'night Sandy—Leon," he said tucking his treasure under his arm and heading for the door. "Stay out of trouble."

He made certain the barn was securely locked when he left, so that even if either cat managed to escape its pen it would be contained inside the sturdy structure, and then he made his way to the house, eager to see what was in Samuel's box.

* * *

It was close to eleven by the time Heero and Duo arrived back in Smoky Hills, after taking a somewhat scenic route home. Heero had been in no hurry to end their pleasant night out, and Duo had cheerfully pointed out landmarks along the way, filling in the long drive with anecdotes about the area.

Heero could have listened all night long.

When they pulled into the driveway of the house Duo and Quatre shared, the long-haired man sighed wistfully. "I had a great time," he told Heero, turning towards him as he put the car into park.

"I did too," Heero replied, tempted to try for a little make out session right there in the car, if only to annoy Quatre, who was sure to be peeking out through the blinds. After all, he'd resisted the impulse to park somewhere on the way home and indulge.

"You wanna come in for coffee or something?" Duo toyed with the end of his braid in a gesture Heero found increasingly endearing.

"You have to work in the morning. I should let you get some rest," he said reluctantly.

"I s'pose so," Duo conceded, equally reluctant to part company.

"Besides, I plan to start some interviews tomorrow, so I'll need my wits about me as well," Heero added.

"Y'gonna grill Otto and Trant?"

Heero just smiled patiently. "I'm going to grill anyone and everyone who might have information about the case. Trust me; I _will _find out what happened to Solo."

Duo nodded. "That'd be good." He leaned over to brush a kiss on Heero's cheek, but the Japanese man turned to meet him and drew him into a more lingering embrace.

When they parted a few moments later, Duo groaned in disappointment. "Damn, Yuy. I think we fogged up your windows." He gave a wicked smirk. "Wanna see if we can make 'em _all _foggy?"

"I do," Heero said a bit hoarsely. "But maybe in a more private location sometime?" He jerked his head towards the porch, where they could just make out the twitch of the curtain over the kitchen door.

Duo grinned unrepentantly. "Quat's just gonna have to learn to live with this, 'Ro. I totally plan to keep seeing as much of you as I can."

Heero smirked back. "That sounds kind of—voyeuristic. Won't I get to see you, too? _All _of you?" His smirk widened into a grin at the furious blush that suffused Duo's cheeks, and he brushed a thumb over the warm skin, thinking how innocent and vulnerable it made the braided man look. "Good night," he said quietly, stealing a quick kiss and then getting out of the car and going around to open Duo's door.

"What did I say about the door thingy?" Duo asked as he climbed out.

"I'm just being polite," Heero insisted. "I'd do the same for any passenger in my car."

"Uh-huh." Duo tried to glare, but couldn't quite carry it off. "Thanks again for a nice night," he said with a sigh. "An' don't worry about Quatre. Once he gets to hang out with you and Trowa on Friday, I'm sure he'll back off. He just needs to get to know you better."

"As I said before, he's a good friend," Heero pointed out.

He got back in the car and watched as Duo pattered happily up the steps and into the house; then he put the car into gear and headed for home.

Despite the enjoyable evening he'd just had, he found his thoughts jumping ahead to the next day's agenda. He planned an early start, figuring on heading down to the police station to set up for interviews.

"Ralph's gonna love that," he muttered to himself.

He really didn't care much what Ralph liked or didn't like; or even Tsubarov, for that matter. They'd obviously bungled the investigation years ago; so he had no compunction about stepping into their territory and taking over.

And it wasn't just because of Duo. He'd have had the same determination if it had been a total stranger's body found in those woods. That was part of what had made him a good detective at one time—his need to find answers and to hold murderers accountable for what they'd done.

And maybe, in part, he needed to prove to himself that he was _still _a good detective.

He sighed, turning onto the dark, narrow road leading up towards the farm.

And then he slammed his foot down on the brake pedal as a deer bounded into the road just a few yards in front of him.

"Shit!" he snapped, yanking the wheel to the side in time to avoid the started animal, and then bringing his vehicle to a halt. "Goddamn!" he breathed, clutching the steering wheel in a death grip, while his heart pounded madly.

_Nothing like a near miss to get the ol' adrenalin flowing!_

The deer, for its part, looked frantically around, taking in the sight of the gleaming headlights, and then gathering itself and leaping off into the underbrush.

"Sure," Heero croaked out, gradually regaining his composure. "Just leave the scene of a near-accident." He ran a shaky hand through his hair, and looked around for more deer before taking his foot off the brake and putting the car back into motion.

He was hyper-vigilant after the close call, and so as he turned into the driveway to the farm, the flicker of motion in the bushes on the side instantly drew his attention. But instead of a russet deer hide, he glimpsed a tawny, low-slung figure slipping along the edge of cover and off into the darkness beyond the range of the headlights.

He blinked once or twice, slowing the car to a crawl and trying to peer into the gloom to see exactly what it was. But he knew the shape of a lion too well to be mistaken.

_Shit! If Sandy or Leon had gotten loose…_

Heero drove straight up to the barn, hopping out of the car and checking that the building was securely locked. And when he found that it was, he frowned and scratched his head.

"Mountain lion?" he wondered aloud, glancing back down the driveway rather warily. After the tracks he'd found behind the barn, he had little doubt that there were pumas in the area. And he strongly suspected that Leon's presence was making them either curious or territorial.

"Just what we need," he muttered, leaving the car parked by the barn and heading for the house.

It appeared Trowa had gone ahead to bed, as Heero suggested before leaving; the house was dark save for a light in the hallway. Thor and Balder emerged from the living room, where they'd probably been lounging on the forbidden couch.

"Hey guys," Heero sighed, ruffling the fur on their shaggy heads. "How 'bout I take you out in your pen to stretch your legs one last time tonight?"

They followed eagerly, bounding out the door when he held it open and exploring their fenced yard as if seeing it for the first time again. Heero leaned in the doorway watching them with a faint smirk, until they'd done their business and then wandered back to him.

"All right fellas; time for bed." He closed up the house and went upstairs with his two shaggy companions flanking him.

"I don't know what we'll do with you two when the time comes for Duo to spend a night here," he commented as they entered his room and Thor headed straight for the bed, while Balder checked out the thick rug by the hearth. "There's not going to be room for the four of us, and frankly if I have to choose between you and Duo to share my bed, he's going to win hands down."

Heero unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it over the back of a chair, before walking to his bureau and running a hand over the badge lying there waiting for the morning's agenda. "Not sure I'm ready to be using this again, boys," he told the dogs in a slightly gruff whisper. "But I guess I don't have much of a choice."

Balder approached him and nuzzled the hand that hung at his side, and out of habit, Heero's fingers curled around the shaggy ears.

"I know," Heero sighed. "It'll be okay." He scratched the base of Balder's ears with a little more intensity and the big dog groaned happily. "You always make things okay," he told both of the dogs.

Thor looked up from where he'd been snuggling into the comforter atop the bed, and cocked his head, as if to ask what was taking the others so long.

"Coming," Heero said with a chuckle, stripping off the rest of his clothes and climbing under the covers. Balder clambered up beside him, and he nestled between the two dogs, even though he knew that before morning, they'd have moved to lie on the smooth wood of the floor. They always did. The bed was a bit too warm for the fur-covered monstrosities, and most mornings Heero found them stretched out by the hearth, or already awake and looking out the window. But he still found their presence comforting.

And he didn't have to worry about embarrassing himself in front of them when he woke in a cold sweat after a particularly nasty nightmare. While Trowa had been a good sport about it, he'd hated having his brother see him like that. In front of his two faithful hounds, it didn't seem to matter if his hands shook, or if he took too long to catch his breath and regain his composure.

"Love you two," he murmured as he began to drift off towards sleep. "Still gonna give Duo your spot in my bed—but I love you guys."


	47. Suspicions

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU, yaoi, swearing, bigotry, some OOC

Pairings: 1X2 eventually, 3X4 also eventually

A/N: Okay, not so long between updates this time. I said I'd try to do better, and I'm stickin' to that plan. I hope I didn't miss many typos as a result.

SMOKY HILLS

_"Today I stumbled across the old 'treasure' box I kept as a child. My hawk's feather and turtle carapace are still intact, and amazingly my little notebook survived these past few years stuck in a dusty hideaway. That handful of mementos took me back a ways; that's for sure. They reminded me of better days. Though...I can't really complain. Ephraim left me the farm when he died, and it's prime land. The owner of the lumber yard in town even made me an offer. I told him to take it and shove it. No one's harvesting these trees! I've seen some of the clear cutting done in other parts of the hills, and it'll be a cold day in Hell before I let that happen here. Gramps would never forgive me, even if I could forgive myself. This is Barton land, and Barton land it shall always be..."_

—_excerpt from the private journal of Samuel Barton_

Chapter Forty Seven: Suspicions

"Heero, _what _time did you get home?" Trowa asked, yawning and rubbing his eyes as he entered the kitchen the next morning to find his brother cooking an early breakfast.

"I told you not to wait up, didn't I?" Heero said blandly. "And would you clear that mess off the table so I can dish up breakfast?"

Trowa looked at the open box, and the scattered mementos on the kitchen table. "Don't you wanna know what it is?"

Heero arched an eyebrow. "Well I may be a bit rusty at detective work, mind you, but since the name Samuel is carved across the lid, I'd _guess _it belonged to your great-grandfather. What did you do—go exploring the attic some more last night?"

"Actually, I found it in the barn," Trowa told him, picking up a hawk feather and laying it carefully back inside the box, next to a dried-out turtle carapace and a tattered deck of cards. "And that reminds me. Did you check on Sandy before leaving yesterday?"

"No. Why?" Heero asked, turning off the stove and dishing omelets onto two plates.

"She got out of her cage," Trowa said with a frown. "When I went out for the nightly check, she was loose inside the barn—nearly gave me heart failure."

A flicker of a rueful smile touched Heero's lips. "Good thing it was you. I probably _would've _had a coronary. I'm not nearly as comfortable around those teeth and claws as you are."

"Yes, well," Trowa shrugged. "The point is, we need to keep a close eye on her. Cathy hadn't heard she was an escape artist, but you never know. Some of these cats are pretty clever, and who's to say one of Sandy's tricks didn't include opening a latch or gate?"

Heero's eyes widened. "As a matter of fact, last night on my way into the driveway, I spotted something that looked an awful lot like a lion. You don't suppose—?"

Trowa was on his feet in an instant. "I'll go check right now. I can't imagine how she'd have gotten out of the barn—."

"She would've had to break a window or something," Heero told him, setting aside the plates. "I checked the door and it was locked up tight as always."

The two men hurried out to the barn, their only concern making sure they didn't have a missing lion. But when they unlocked the door and opened it, Leon and Sandy were both in their cages, lounging indolently on their pallets. In fact, they barely glanced up at their visitors, seeming more inclined to sleep in that morning.

"Whew!" Trowa blew out a relieved breath. "That would've been my worst nightmare—a lion on the loose."

"I'd like to know how she got loose even inside the barn," Heero added with a scowl. "We really do have a responsibility to keep these animals secure."

"Trust me. I know," Trowa promised. "And whatever it takes; we'll do just that." But then he frowned thoughtfully. "So whatever you saw in the driveway, it wasn't these two. Another puma, you think?"

"That would be my best guess." Heero shook his head, walking over to examine the latch on Sandy's cage. "She got out of _this_?"

"I'm hoping maybe we just didn't close it properly earlier," Trowa replied, doing his own inspection of the area. When he was satisfied everything was as it should be, he took two meals out of the cooler and slid them into the cages for the lions' breakfast. "There," he said in satisfaction, as both animals went right to their food. "That should keep them appeased for awhile."

"So, now that they've had their meal, how about we go eat ours while it's still lukewarm?" Heero suggested.

They made their way back to the house, and as Trowa went to get the plates, Heero paused at the table, running his hand over a small, dog-eared notebook next to the box. "Another journal?"

"Yes. Mostly the ramblings of a young boy—his favorite hiding places and where he stashed his stuff out in the woods." Trowa smiled fondly. "Pretty cool."

"Hn." Heero went to get the two cups of tea he'd left steeping, while Trowa put their plates on the table.

"So—when _did _you get in last night?" Trowa asked, closing up the box and setting it aside so he could eat.

"A little after eleven. It was a long drive back from the restaurant."

Trowa nodded, recalling how far the place had been from Smoky Hills. "Didn't leave much time for making out."

"We didn't," Heero said quickly. "Not much, anyway."

"Loser," Trowa said with a mocking sigh. "Quatre and I made out for nearly an hour when he came over to talk about the journals." He grinned smugly as he sipped his tea.

Heero just snorted in amusement. "I _knew _he was in way too much of a hurry to see Duo and me off. Devious little shit had plans of his own, hm?"

"Plans I totally approved of," Trowa said happily. "We're going to drive up to his friend Rashid's facility this weekend with the most damaged journals and find out if he can help us."

"Where's this 'Rashid' guy live?"

"Upstate," Trowa smirked. "_Way _up. Quatre suggested we get a hotel room and stay over."

Heero rolled his eyes. "I'm sure you didn't offer much resistance to the idea."

"None at all." Trowa sat back with a silly grin on his face. "He's amazing, 'Ro. Gorgeous blue eyes and that golden hair—I'd have gone for him just on appearances. But he's also a really great guy. I mean, between offering to help with the journals, and how protective he is of his friends—you can just tell how deep his personality runs. I want to know everything about him. I don't think I've ever been so fascinated with anyone—." He shook his head, digging into his omelet. "There's just something special about him."

"Yes, I'm sure there is," Heero said patiently, figuring as long as Trowa was waxing poetic about Quatre, he wouldn't be prying into the intimate details of Heero's date with Duo. "Hey, I'm going to head out right after we eat. I want to look through all the police reports for the months just before and after Solo's disappearance, and have Officer Kurt round up those thugs from the convenience store so I can interview them first."

"Think they did it?" Trowa asked around a mouthful of omelet.

"It's much too soon to speculate. But if their personalities are any indication, they're both capable of violence." Heero's face darkened as he recalled the way they'd harassed Duo.

"It's gonna be tough getting folks to recall where they were eight years ago, and what they might've seen at the time," Trowa mused.

"Don't remind me." Heero finished up his breakfast and took his plate to the sink. "I already had the dogs out for a run, and they're in the back yard at the moment—probably digging a few new holes. Keep an eye on them?"

Trowa grinned and sighed, shaking his head. "Sure thing. Quatre's coming out after work to help me put the journals in order of importance for Rashid, so I want to have most of them inventoried and put in chronological order."

"Have fun with that," Heero smirked. "I'm going to be annoying local law enforcement all day."

"And loving every minute of it?" hazarded his brother.

"You know it." Heero was still perturbed that the police had never taken Duo's missing persons report seriously. Things might have been very different if they'd treated the disappearance with the gravity it deserved at the time it first happened. "See you this evening," he said, grabbing his notebooks and a jacket and heading for the door. "Call me if you need me to pick up anything—like maybe a new padlock to keep that crazy lion secure?"

"I'll check out that latch again," Trowa promised. "I do _not _need another scare like last night!" He shivered dramatically, and Heero raised an eyebrow.

"What exactly did she do?"

"Pounced on me."

Heero's eyes widened. "Barton—you are _totally _going to lead the way into the barn from now on. No way in hell am I letting an overgrown kitten tackle me to the ground and maul me. Not even for you!"

Trowa smiled weakly. "I wouldn't want you to."

Heero shook his head and continued on his way, eager to try to make some progress in the Stevens case.

* * *

Predictably enough, Ralph didn't look pleased to see Heero stride into the police station, and he looked even less pleased when he heard the man's plans.

"You want me to _what_?"

"Track down Otto Richter and Trant Clark, who were according to Mister Maxwell Solo's worst enemies, and bring them in here so I can interview them." Heero gestured to the interrogation room Ralph had used to talk to Duo. "I'll set up in there."

Ralph practically gaped at him. "And I'm supposed to what—drag 'em out of work?"

"If necessary. I'm perfectly willing to wait for their lunch breaks or until whatever time they get off work. But I fully intend to speak to both of them today. And what about the rest of the Stevens kids? I was told they got the house after Solo's adoptive parents passed away. Are they still in town?"

"They sold the farm off to a developer years ago," Ralph said flatly. "They ain't been back since."

Heero gave a derogatory snort. "Can't imagine why—this being such a friendly town and all—."

"We're friendly enough," Ralph muttered. "To our own, at least."

"Like Duo?"

"He ain't from Smoky Hills!" Ralph bit out sharply. "He an' Solo both came from the city—street kids."

"And they grew up _here_," Heero reminded him. "In a local orphanage. Are you saying just because they didn't happen to be born right here that they're any less a part of this town?" He shook his head. "No wonder Duo hates this place."

Ralph gave him a sharp look. "Well he knows the way outta town. Any time he wants to leave—."

"I think he'd prefer not to leave the way Solo did," Heero couldn't help commenting. He walked over to stand facing Ralph. "Now, if we can stick to business, instead of debating the nature of Smoky Hills, I'll need to look through those police reports again, to see what other crimes might have coincided with Stevens' disappearance. And while I'm working on that, you can go find Otto and Trant and explain that I need to have a conversation with each of them."

Ralph shrugged. "It's your funeral," he said with a hint of a smirk.

"What's that mean?"

"Otto's dad owns the lumber mill, and a good deal of the prime business real estate in town. He's not gonna like you suggesting his little boy had anything to do with Stevens' death."

"I'm not suggesting that," Heero said firmly. "And I expect you to stress that fact to both men. I just want to talk to them. They may remember something helpful, whether or not they had anything to do with the crime."

"You gonna grill Maxwell, too?"

"I already did—after you finished with him," Heero said coolly.

"And just like that, you believe he had nothing to do with Stevens' death?" Ralph demanded.

Heero fixed Ralph with a glare. "You've known him longer than I have," he reminded the man. "You watched him waste away here after Solo's disappearance, didn't you? You _all _watched him. Everyone in this damned town."

Ralph shrugged uncomfortably. "He had the priest an' the nun to go cryin' to," he muttered. "At least while the orphanage was still standing. And Hilde—he had her to cheer him up when he got depressed about it. Still does."

"Did you hear what you just said?" Heero demanded. "You know damned well he's still missing Solo. And you have the nerve to suggest he had something to do with his disappearance? Do you honestly think someone who'd killed his lover would still be pining for him eight years later?" He shook his head. "Only a serious psychopath could play a role like that, officer. And trust me when I say, Duo's no psychopath."

"You know so much about it?"

"As a matter of fact, I do. I've dealt with some." Heero shook his head, trying not to recall that there was still one on the loose back in Sanc, due to his failure. "Look, Ralph, I'm not trying to be difficult. But I've got a job to do, since no one here ever bothered. So go round up my interviews for today, and I'll try to make this go as quickly as possible."

Ralph scowled at him, but picked up his hat and the jacket from the back of his chair. "Maybe you're right that Duo wouldn't have killed Solo. But it don't mean anyone else in Smoky Hills would've. I mean, shit. I went to school with all them guys, even if I was a couple of years older. Ain't none of 'em capable of murder."

"Maybe not. But if you were in my position—an objective outsider investigating this murder—who would you start out interviewing, hm?"

Ralph donned his hat and shrugged into his jacket, his expression a mixture of annoyance and serious thought. "I'll go see what I can do about rounding up Otto an' Trant for you. And then maybe I oughta give you a couple more names. Solo had a boss, Mister Gunderson, who's still in town, an' a best friend Mueller who works up at State Line. Dunno if they could shed any light on things; but if anyone besides Maxwell knew what was going on in Solo's life, it'd be Mueller."

Heero gave him a curt nod. "I'd appreciate the help."

He watched the officer stalk out of the room, hoping that maybe he'd jolted him into thinking like a cop for a change. He didn't delude himself into thinking that Ralph Kurt had a professional bone in his body. But the man must have at least gone through academy training, and should know how to conduct a basic investigation.

Heero could almost hear Duo's derisive laugh echoing in his head at the very thought that Ralph could be helpful for a change.

He turned his attention to the notes he'd made during his talk with Duo, picking out names and their connection to Solo, and trying to decide how helpful they might be.

Ralph had mentioned Solo's boss Mister Gunderson; but Heero doubted the man would know anything useful. He might be able to give a few names of Solo's friends or enemies; but that was probably all.

_Unless maybe Solo had gone to try to get his job back? Maybe he'd started an altercation at the garage…_

Heero ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "This is fucking impossible," he muttered.

After a lovers' spat with Duo, Solo might have gone to a number of places to vent. His former job was just one possibility. While Chang had pretty much indicated that Beech Bluff was where Solo had died, it didn't preclude the possibility that he'd started out somewhere else and been followed to the bluff—or taken there.

_How many people would have known that was a special place to Solo? His friends, certainly…and most of the kids close to his age or Duo's…_

Hours passed as Heero continued to sort through his notes, putting names into their order of importance. Obviously Otto and Trant were at the top, having been Solo's most public and persistent enemies. But Ralph and his fellow-cop Alex were close enough in age that they would be worth talking to.

And then there was Trant's father—Officer Clark—who'd taken Duo's missing persons statement. If he'd been an abusive father, as Duo suspected, he certainly was capable of violence. It was a shame he wasn't alive to interview; Heero would have liked to grill him about his mishandling of the case. Perhaps his indifference was just a smooth cover for guilt.

And perhaps Trant could fill in some of those blanks—at least if he was inclined to talk.

"Who did you piss off, Solo?" Heero whispered to himself. "Who'd you make mad enough to kill you?"

He tried picturing a number of scenarios, and finally decided he needed more physical evidence and a clearer picture of the types of people he was dealing with before he could construct a plausible theory.

It was nearly noon when he heard the outer door open and the sound of work boots stomping down the hallway. He looked up as Ralph ushered in none other than Otto Richter.

The thug looked nothing less than pissed off at having been dragged down to the police station, and Heero fought the impulse to smirk. He recalled the ugly scene at Howie's very well, and how small and vulnerable Duo had looked with the two big bullies ganging up on him. It felt good to turn the situation around like this, and get to see a trace of uneasiness mixed in with Otto's belligerence.

"Have a seat," he said politely, gesturing to the one across from him.

"Why'm I here?" demanded Otto.

Ralph whacked him across the back of the head with the flat of his hand. "Just sit down, Richter. I told ya—the city cop wants to talk to everyone who knew Stevens."

Heero resisted the urge to glare at Ralph. As hard as he'd tried to keep a lid on the identity of the skeleton, it had spread around town faster than wildfire. He'd hoped to question people before it became common knowledge that Solo was dead. But that was clearly not possible, considering the way the rumor mill worked. And he strongly suspected the cops had the biggest mouths in town, as far as gossip went.

"So I knew him," Otto shrugged. "Everyone did. The stinking queer grew up here, like his tagalong, Maxwell."

Heero gave the man an icy once-over as he plopped down into the chair, and then nodded dismissively to Ralph. "I can take it from here."

"Yeah, but it's _my _office."

"Go write some parking tickets," Heero snapped, glaring.

Ralph went out muttering under his breath about "pushy city cops" and "freakin' showoffs."

"So, Otto," Heero said quietly, bringing the man's attention back to him. "Having seen that little display you and your friend Trant put on at Howie's, I can pretty much guess you two disliked both Stevens and Maxwell."

"No shit."

"Since when?"

Otto scowled, and then shrugged. "Forever."

"Really? Duo told me that back in grade school, you all were on pretty good terms."

"Well, yeah, I s'pose," Otto admitted. "Back when we were all dumb little shits." He dared a lopsided sneer. "But then Solo an' Duo grew into dumb _big _shits—an' queers, to boot."

"You don't like—queers?"

"Who does?"

Heero gave a very small, condescending smirk. "I suppose other queers do," he pointed out.

Otto looked a bit startled, and then shrugged. "That's their business."

"And what's yours?"

"Huh?"

"What do you do for work?"

"I work at the lumber yard."

"The one your father owns?"

"Yeah. So?"

Heero just gave a noncommittal grunt. "How long have you worked there?"

"Since high school."

"Does your buddy Trant work there?"

"Yeah."

Heero nodded, scribbling a few notes on his pad, and enjoying the way Otto shifted in his seat, trying to see what he wrote.

"What's this got to do with Stevens?" Otto demanded.

"I'm just trying to paint a picture," Heero said enigmatically. "Of this town—the people—the situation." He looked up with a piercing glare. "I'm trying to figure out how so many people could be so indifferent about one of their own being murdered."

"Huh?" asked Otto again.

"When Stevens disappeared, Maxwell was the only one who cared enough to really take note of it. Even the cops wrote him off, rather than investigate a missing person."

"A missing fag," Otto sneered. "So nobody cared. So what? He was a piece of street trash anyway."

"He was a human being, with a job and friends, and a future—at least until someone took it away from him." Heero glared sternly at the sullen man. "I intend to find out who did that, and see they are punished to the full extent of the law."

"Yeah. Good luck with that," Otto muttered.

"I don't need luck. I have forensic evidence. I also have firsthand testimony that suggests you and your buddy Trant were two of Stevens' worst enemies."

"It ain't a crime to dislike someone."

"No, or you'd be in jail for the way you treated Maxwell that day at the gas station. In fact, if I could get him to press charges, I'd have you up for assault."

Otto glared back, though his lacked the pure venom of Heero's renowned stare. "He's done his own share of ass-kicking, officer," he pointed out snidely. "Just 'cause we started it that time—. He's been the one on the offensive plenty of times before."

While Heero highly doubted Duo would have started trouble in a two-against-one situation, he could certainly imagine the volatile man stirring things up one-on-one.

"The point is," he said carefully. "Your enmity towards Maxwell and Stevens has been a long term issue in this town. It's easy to believe that one of your famous altercations could have blown out of proportion and turned into something more—something like murder."

Otto's eyes widened, and then narrowed menacingly. "You got a lot of nerve sayin' something like that. Trant an' me didn't do nothin' like that."

"I'm not saying you did. Not yet, anyway." Heero fixed a stern look on the other man. "When did you last see Solo Stevens?"

Otto shrugged, glancing aside. "Beats the hell outta me. We didn't exactly run in the same circles any more when he went missing."

"You must have crossed paths—," Heero suggested.

"Yeah—at Howie's sometimes. Or State Line."

Heero sighed, realizing that it was nearly impossible to pin down someone's location on a particular day and time so many years in the past. All he could really hope to do was rattle enough cages and hope it made someone let something slip.

"Do you know if Solo had any other enemies besides yourself and your friend Trant?"

Otto frowned a little. "He didn't much like his adopted brothers after they up an' sold the old farm off to developers. They got into it over that a time or two."

"Officer Kurt told me they left town."

"Well yeah. They were a bit older—off at college or something when their folks adopted Solo. Came back for the reading of the will, though. Sold the farm the same week and took off again. But not before having an all out row with Solo about it."

"How long before his disappearance was that?"

"A few months."

"So there's no reason to think they'd have come back and 'gotten into it' with him again, right?"

"Guess not," Otto admitted.

"Anyone else?" Heero asked. "Mister Maxwell told me Solo had lost his job—that Gunderson couldn't afford hired help, and that his sons were going to fill in instead."

"Yeah." Otto shrugged. "But there wouldn't have been any hard feelings over that. Everyone knew Mister Gunderson didn't have a choice. His wife got sick and he needed money for the medical bills. It wasn't like he'd have let Solo go if he didn't have to. He really liked the bum for some reason."

"And what about Officer Clark?" Heero asked, curious to see Otto's reaction.

The man stiffened and looked surprised. "Trant's old man? What about him?"

"He was the one who took Maxwell's statement and then blew off the investigation without even trying to find Solo. Do you think he might have had something to hide?"

Otto hesitated, and Heero could see him trying to piece together a reply.

"I already know he beat up his son," Heero bluffed.

Otto blinked and his jaw fell open. "Who told you that?"

"That's beside the point. Mister Clark was an abusive father. Is it possible he had something against Solo?"

It was obvious Otto knew something about Trant's father—something he was reluctant to share. But he bought time by picking up the bottle of water and cup Heero had left on the table in the interrogation room and pouring himself a drink.

"The man's already dead, Richter. Even if you tell me he beat up his kid on a daily basis, there's nothing I can do about it."

Otto swigged down a few swallows and then drew a sleeve across his mouth and nodded. "So yeah, maybe Trant's dad had a temper. An' once in a while he'd smack him around a little. That don't make him a murderer." He shrugged and scowled. "Matter of fact, after Solo went missing, Officer Clark _did _talk to me an' Trant. Asked us what we thought about it all, and if we knew anything." He glared sullenly. "We didn't."

Heero sighed, deciding there wasn't much more to be squeezed out of Otto at this point. He'd at least confirmed Duo's statement about Trant's father. Not that it had anything to do with Solo's murder. But it gave him another piece of the picture.

"You can go, Richter," he said evenly.

"I can?" Otto seemed surprised.

"Yes. I appreciate your taking time out of your work day to talk to me," Heero stood up and went to the door, holding it open.

Otto got up slowly, looking almost disbelieving, and headed for the exit.

But Heero leaned in as the man passed him. "By the way—if you accost Duo Maxwell again, like you did that night at Howie's—if you so much as look the wrong way at him—."

"What? You'll arrest me?" Otto sneered, turning back to face him.

Heero smiled icily and shook his head. "I'll fucking kill you."

Otto's eyes widened. "You can't threaten me!"

"I think I just did," Heero pointed out.

"But, you're a cop. You aren't allowed to say shit like that—." Otto scowled defiantly. "Chief Tsubarov is gonna hear about this!"

"About what?" Heero asked innocently.

"About what you said—that you threatened me."

Heero gave a shrug. "Prove it." He knew full well that even if Otto had the nerve to run to the police chief and repeat the threat, he'd then have to explain _why _the threat had been made—which would mean admitting to the altercation at Howie's.

Otto sputtered for a moment, and then simply rushed out the door, his figurative tail tucked firmly between his legs.

Heero smiled grimly, hoping he'd thrown a good scare into the man, and that he'd think twice before hassling Duo any time soon.

Ralph stepped out of the office across the hall, looking after Otto's retreating back and then looking at Heero. "Ready for Clark? I got him cooling his heels in the break room."

"Sure. Send him on in," Heero replied, returning to his place at the table, and settling into his chair, picking up his notebook and preparing for the next interview.

The moment Trant walked in, Heero's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. While Otto had been full of swagger and bluster, there'd been a hint of fear in his eyes; he'd at least had the decency to seem intimidated by being brought in. Trant showed no such trepidation. He strode in with nothing but arrogance and impatience in evidence.

"Good afternoon," Heero said politely, gesturing to the chair Otto had recently vacated.

"Maybe t'you," Trant said irritably, taking a seat. "Me—I got work to do. So if you could keep this short and sweet, I might not sue the fuckin' department for dragging me in here."

"When was the last time you saw Solo Stevens?" Heero asked bluntly, watching for a reaction.

Trant threw his head back and laughed. "Y'expect me to remember eight years ago?"

"Actually, I do." Heero bit back the urge to point out he hadn't asked when Trant last saw Solo _alive_. He was allowing for the possibility that the man had been dead when Trant and/or Otto had last looked upon him.

Trant crossed his arms. "He was leaving Howie's. Just had a big spat with his little piece of ass, Maxwell, and he stormed out and nearly knocked me flat in the process."

"Did you speak to him?"

"Yeah. I said 'fuck you,' or words t'that effect."

"And did he have anything to say?"

Trant gave a small, amused smile. "As I recall, last I saw him, he was dead quiet."

Heero felt a chill up his spine—the kind he'd only ever gotten when dealing with serial killers or cold-blooded murderers. Trant's choice of words set off every alarm in his head. "Was that because you'd killed him?" he asked flatly.

Trant looked back with narrowed eyes. "Nobody killed Stevens. His big mouth did." He sat back and gave a disinterested shrug. "Prob'ly went on up to the State Line for a drink after Maxwell blew up at him, and picked on the wrong damn drunk, officer. That's what he prob'ly did."

"The State Line Bar?"

Trant nodded.

"Did you see him there?"

"Wasn't old enough to drink when Stevens went missing."

"I hear that didn't stop kids around here," Heero said coolly.

Trant actually gave a short chuckle. "Not really," he admitted, seeming to relax a little. "But, no. I didn't go there that day. And I'm just speculating that it's where Stevens might've gone. He spent a fair bit of time there, when he wasn't chasing tail—_Maxwell's _tail." Trant leaned back and put his hands behind his head. "Maybe you should talk to _him _about where his boyfriend disappeared to. He's got a hot little temper, y'know. Drove a truck over the statue on the town green once." The man suddenly leaned forward, bracing his elbows on the table. "Maybe he did the same to Solo—pissed off as he was."

"I've interviewed Maxwell," Heero said calmly. "As well as some of those closest to him and to Stevens. The general consensus is that he loved the man."

"That's as good an excuse for murder as any," Trant riposted. "Maybe ya wanna talk to the Schbeiker bitch, too. She was a little sweet on Solo, back in the day. Maybe she didn't like the way he swung." He grinned nastily. "Guy had himself a whole shitload of enemies, y'know. You got your work cut out for you."

Heero wasn't surprised that the son of a cop knew all about interrogations, and how to put other suspects in line before himself. He'd had a vague hope Trant might not be that intelligent. But that was clearly not the case.

On the other hand, Trant had never encountered anyone of Heero's caliber, when it came to interviewing suspects.

"What about your father?" Heero asked coolly.

Trant actually flinched in surprised before schooling his face back to the calm mask of indifference. "What about him?"

"Was he one of those many enemies you say Solo had?"

The tightening of Trant's jaw gave away his unease, though he didn't change facial expressions. "What's that got to do with anything? My old man's dead. He can't be a suspect."

"Sure he can." Heero leaned forward slightly, fixing an intense gaze on the other man. "You and Solo were friends, once upon a time. What changed that?"

Trant was suddenly on his feet with his hands flat on the table, glaring back at Heero. "That's none of your fuckin' business! And leave my father out of this!"

"Why are you defending a man who beat you up?"

Trant's muscles tensed, and Heero prepared himself in case the man lunged at him.

Just then there was a tap on the door, and Ralph stuck his head in. "Hey, Yuy—you got a phone call. Wanna take it?"

Heero hesitated, part of him wanting to keep pushing Trant while he had him rattled and angry. "Who is it?"

"That forensic guy—Chang."

Damn. Chang wouldn't have called without a good reason. Heero got up from his chair, ignoring Trant's rigid posture and still-flushed face. "You can go," he said calmly. "But don't leave town. When I've weeded through that 'shitload of enemies,' I'll want another conversation with you, Mister Clark."

"Sure you will," sneered Trant. He shoved himself bodily away from the table and pushed past Ralph and out the door.

Ralph looked after him with a frown. "He was sure in a hurry."

"I don't think he liked what I had to say to him," Heero replied with a shrug.

Ralph actually gave a wry smile. "I can relate to that. If you want to take your call at my desk, you can. Or the Chief said you could use his office any time. He's out at lunch."

"Chief Tsubarov's office would be great," Heero decided, thinking that a closed door might at least keep Ralph from overhearing and gossiping about the latest developments in the case.

He followed the officer into the rather conservatively decorated office, thinking that at least Tsubarov wasn't an ostentatious type. Maybe there was one sensible cop in Smoky Hills after all.

"Line one," Ralph said, leaving and closing the door without prompting.

Heero picked up the receiver and hit the button for the line Ralph had indicated. "Yuy here."

"Heero—it's Wufei."

It wasn't like Heero's former lover to waste words like that, and he couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. "I gathered as much from Officer Kurt," he said shortly. "What's up?"

There was a momentary pause. "Didn't you get my message?"

"The one Trowa left on top of the coffee machine where I couldn't miss it?" Heero said wryly. "Yes, I got it."

"So, you know this is officially a homicide investigation now?"

"Yes," Heero answered, not bothering to say he'd already been treating it as one. "Is that it, Chang? Or is there an actual point to this call?"

"Um, not really," admitted Wufei. "I just wanted you to know my office is standing by to provide any assistance you need."

"I—appreciate that," Heero said with a puzzled frown. "You've already done the most important part, but I'm sure I'll have more evidence to send in as things progress."

"Good!" Wufei said just a bit too brightly.

"Are you—okay?" Heero asked carefully, wondering why his former lover was so "off" today. He normally wasn't chatty _or_ bright, and he absolutely hated redundancy; it was strange for him to call simply to confirm that a message got through.

"I'm fine. Great, really." Wufei cleared his throat and Heero could almost hear the grimace. "Just—call me if you need any help with the case. Anything at all."

"I'll do that," Heero said, more baffled than ever. "Good day."

He hung up the phone before Chang could say anything more out of character, or act any stranger.

"Hm, maybe Smoky Hills is rubbing off on him," he mused, heading back out the door to tell Ralph he was done for the day, and would let him know when he had the next set of interviews lined up and needed the use of the room.


	48. Searching for Answers

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU, yaoi, swearing, bigotry, some OOC

Pairings: 1X2 eventually, 3X4 also eventually

A/N: Sorry I have been so out of things lately. Starting to think I get that SAD thing in the winter. I had no energy for writing or life. But I'm recovering both lately, and I will make writing my priority again.

SMOKY HILLS

"_I found the perfect place for my still, up where I used to play when I was just a boy. It'd be a cold day in Hell before any police or Revenuers could manage the hike, let alone find my operation. All I have to worry about is moving the merchandise, and I've got Jenny to help with that. I guess all those years I explored these hills as a child were well spent...__"_

—_excerpt from the private journal of Samuel Barton_

Chapter Forty Eight: Searching for Answers

It was late enough when Heero left the police station that he decided to swing by the house Duo and Quatre shared to see if the mailman was home. And when he saw the familiar red Jeep parked in the driveway he smiled widely and pulled in behind it, grateful for another chance to see Duo without Quatre's watchful eyes on them.

His knock on the door was heralded with a "Just a sec!" from the other side, and then Duo pulled it open, looking a bit disheveled and holding a soda in one hand and a loaf of bread in the other. "'Ro!" he blurted, eyes widening.

"Is this a bad time?" Heero teased.

Duo looked down at the items in his hands and then up at the glimmering blue eyes. "Naw. C'mon in." He stepped back, heading for the kitchen as if expecting Heero to follow; so he did.

"I was just grabbing a snack," Duo explained, tossing the package of bread onto the counter next to a plastic-wrapped bundle of deli meat. "Long day at the post office, and I figure Quat won't be home until late, since he's going out to swap spit with your brother after work."

Heero blinked and then chuckled. "So he told you where he went last night."

Duo turned a devilish grin on him. "We have no secrets, Quat and me…"

"None?" Heero queried, stepping closer and lifting the can of soda out of Duo's hand, then setting it aside so he could pull the unresisting man into his arms.

"Well, not many," Duo sighed, looking up at him with a smirk. "And frankly, I think he already knows about you an' me."

Heero shook his head. "He guesses. But he has no idea all the things I'd like to do with you." He leaned in for a thorough and lingering kiss. But the mood was broken the minute their lips parted and Duo's stomach growled loudly.

Both men laughed, and Duo pulled back, rubbing his midsection. "I really gotta eat something."

"How 'bout I take you out?" Heero suggested, flicking a quick, disdainful glance at the soda and cold cuts. "For some real food."

Duo grinned at him. "Two nights in a row? You'll spoil me!"

"I'd like to," Heero assured him. "But tonight we don't have time for a long drive to a romantic getaway. How about someplace closer? Isn't there a diner here in town?"

"Sal's? Yeah, sure," Duo replied quickly. "The food's great, and the prices are reasonable." A frown creased his forehead. "But everyone knows me there."

"So?"

"So—they'll figure out we're friends, at the very least."

"And that's a problem?"

"Not for me," Duo insisted. "But what about you? Everyone knows you're a cop now, and that you're investigating Solo's death. Won't it look funny if we hang out together?"

"I don't think so," Heero disagreed. "For all anyone knows, I'm gathering information from you." He reached out to tug Duo up against him again. "It's not an entirely incorrect assumption, either, since I do have some more questions."

"And what if they think it's a date?" Duo pressed. "You'll end up outing yourself to the whole damned town."

"I already told you, that doesn't concern me."

"It concerns me. I've lived with these homophobes a lot longer than you have, and—."

Heero cut him off with a kiss. "And they'll never change. So you have two choices; hide from their small-minded scrutiny, or just stand up for yourself and tell 'em to fuck off."

"Heero—."

"I'm serious," said the Japanese man with a scowl. "I have no intention of sneaking around to see you, Duo. I'm not talking about making out in public," he added, thinking of their lapse of reason up on Beech Bluff. "But I expect to be able to have a meal with you and not answer to the busybodies and rumor mongers in this town!"

Duo sighed, pulling away and starting to pack up the sandwich meat. "Have it your way," he said with a shake of his head. "But don't blame me if things get ugly."

"I won't," Heero asserted. "And they won't. There might be some speculation about our relationship. But the people who are your friends won't care, and the rest don't matter."

Duo chuckled. "You are so—."

"So what—?"

"Cool," Duo finally muttered, turning to face him. "I've never made a big secret of my preferences—there was no point after Solo and I got together. And I don't care about getting harassed for it. But somehow I didn't think a newcomer like you would want that kind of—notoriety."

Heero grinned almost wickedly. "A little notoriety never killed anyone."

Duo snorted skeptically as he put the food away, and then glanced over his shoulder. "Since we're on the subject—how'd it go today?"

Heero frowned in confusion, and Duo rolled his eyes. "You said notoriety never _killed _anyone, an' I'm thinkin' that Solo might not agree with that. Just wondering if you have any leads."

"You know I can't talk about it," came the firm answer. Heero picked up the soda and headed for the refrigerator, only to have Duo swoop in and pluck it from his fingers, taking a long swig and smirking over the edge of the can.

"I know you can't tell me any details," Duo drawled in a coaxing tone. "But everyone knows you talked to Otto an' Trant."

Heero rolled his eyes and sighed. "You have the biggest-mouthed cops in this town!"

Duo laughed at him. "Damn straight," he agreed. "Hell, the police station is 'gossip central.'"

Heero scowled at him. "It's not funny!"

Carefully repressing his mirth to a simple smirk, Duo gave a shrug. "Sad, but true?" he hazarded.

"It really is."

"So—?"

Heero raised an eyebrow.

"Otto? Trant? Any thoughts on whether they did it?"

The Japanese man gave a frustrated huff. "I can't talk to you about it, Duo. You're too close to the case."

"That's _why _you should talk to me! I need to know what happened to Solo. Don't you know how important this is to me?"

"I do. And I won't let you compromise my findings by prying like this," came the very serious reply.

"What compromising? I just want a clue; that's all."

"I don't have any yet," Heero said firmly. "I interviewed Richter and Clark today. But that's just the tip of the iceberg. I've got several more people in mind to speak to over the next few days. And while I have lots of suspicions and plenty of gut feelings, I haven't got anything concrete, so I'm not going to speculate—especially to you. I don't want you to think the wrong thing."

"I already think fuckin' Trant and Otto had something to do with it," Duo said darkly. "I _know _it. In my _gut_, I know it!"

Heero managed a wan smile. "Your gut won't convict anyone, Duo. No matter how much you want it to." He reached out and caught Duo's hand, taking it in a firm grip. "Just give me time and let me do my job."

"Yeah," Duo conceded weakly, his gaze dropping to the warm hand holding his. "I'll try to be patient, 'Ro. Really, I will."

"Good." Heero tugged on the hand to pull Duo closer so he could kiss him.

When their lips parted, Duo smirked slyly at him. "Is that my reward for being patient?"

Heero shook his head. "That's just a down-payment. For your continued patience, you'll get a whole lot more." He watched in fascination as Duo's eyes widened, and a flush crept up his cheeks.

"Yeah?" Duo asked breathlessly.

"Want a preview?"

Duo nodded, and Heero pulled him into his arms for a much more thorough kiss—accompanied by full-body contact and a provocative grind of his hips.

The braided man moaned appreciatively, arms wrapping possessively around Heero's waist.

He looked breathless, flushed, and a bit frustrated as Heero pulled back. "Hey—!"

"A preview," Heero repeated. "You don't get the whole show right now."

"How 'bout the trailer, at least?" Duo urged, smirking wickedly at him.

"How about a late lunch?" Heero asked, poking him in the stomach until he flinched away. "Oooh—ticklish?"

"None a' your business," Duo grumbled, putting the food away and downing the last of his soda before throwing the empty can like a basketball, into the recycling bin in the corner. "Ha! Nothing but net!" he said triumphantly.

Heero just shook his head with a bemused smile on his lips. "C'mon. Let's get you some food before that nasty soda eats away your stomach lining."

Duo grabbed a sweatshirt off the back of a chair. "I've been drinking soda for years, Yuy, and it hasn't killed me yet!"

"Do you even know what's in that crap?" Heero demanded, leading the way to the door and holding it open.

Duo narrowed his eyes as he preceded Heero out onto the porch. "Holding doors again?"

"Habit. I _told _you." Heero narrowed his eyes back, though they sparkled with mirth. "And stop changing the subject. I'm going to convince you to drink something healthier for you than sugar-filled, artificially-colored acid."

Duo snorted. "Others have tried," he said solemnly. "And failed." He gestured towards Heero's car. "We driving to Sal's, or would you like to walk? It's a quarter of a mile or so."

"I've been cooped up inside all day," Heero said with a grimace. "Walking sounds nice."

They set out on the sidewalk at a steady pace, slow enough for talking and yet fast enough to get them where they wanted to go.

"Hey, by the way," Heero spoke up. "What's this I keep hearing about you running over a statue?"

Duo blushed a deep shade of red and ducked his head. "That was a long time ago. An' who told you about it, anyway?"

"Aside from eavesdropping on that chat you had with Ralph, I read the police report, and one of my interviewees brought it up in conversation." Heero shook his head, a bemused look on his face. "Want to tell me about it?"

"I was pissed. So I took it out on the statue of Harry Richter, one of the Founding Fathers of this goddamned town."

"What were you pissed about?"

Duo scowled and looked away. "Just bullshit stuff."

"When Ralph and you were yelling about it that day at the police station, I heard something about the orphanage."

"Don't miss much, do you?"

"Well, I am a cop."

Duo paused, turning to face Heero. "Look—it was just after the fire at the orphanage, okay? Father Maxwell and Sister Helen and all the other kids were dead, and when the church higher-ups approached the town council to ask for help in rebuilding because the insurance money wasn't enough, they turned 'em down flat. They said it was up to the church to scrape up the funds to build another orphanage. And then they said the new place would have to conform to current zoning regulations and stuff. It was gonna cost a fortune!" Duo shook his head, turning and resuming their walk. "The church administrators decided they couldn't afford to build that kind of facility way out here; so they put the money into one of the city orphanages instead."

"Where'd that leave you?" Heero wondered.

"I'd have had to go to wherever the church folks decided to send me, except Howard offered me room, board and a job at his place, and talked the Archbishop into letting me stay there. I was almost eighteen anyway, and I'd have been out of the system in a few weeks." He picked at the hem of his sweatshirt as he walked. "I got fucking wasted one night and drove my pickup truck over the statue on the town green." He looked up a bit sheepishly. "It seemed like the thing to do at the time."

Heero laughed outright. "I think maybe you're right," he admitted. Then he sobered. "Not that it helped your situation any—."

"My 'situation' in this town was fucked up from the get-go," Duo said wryly. "Running over ol' Harry Richter just gave the cops an excuse to pull me over for the least little infraction for the rest of my natural life—especially when I was driving anywhere near the town green." He gave a lopsided grin. "If you wanna screw with Ralph sometime, I'll walk up to the new statue and you can watch him have a fit. I dunno what he expects me to do to it, but it's a surefire way to yank his chain."

"Thanks, but I'll pass," Heero said with a smile. "You don't need that kind of trouble."

They resumed their walk, enjoying the warmth of the summer afternoon, and reached Sally's Diner in just a few minutes.

Duo pointedly darted ahead to open the door for Heero, smirking as the Japanese man rolled his eyes on the way past. "Unlike you, I have no problem with someone graciously opening a door for me. Thank you."

"You're welcome," Duo grinned back, following him inside. "Hey, Sal! What's the special?" he called out in greeting.

Sally came from behind the counter, grabbing up some menus on the way. "Got your favorite," she said with a smile. "Fried shrimp." She paused in her stride, realizing who was with Duo. "Mister Yuy?"

"Just Heero, please," he requested.

She eyed him up and down. "I'm Sally, in case it wasn't totally obvious."

"C'mon, 'Ro," Duo urged, nudging him forward. "Quat and I usually take that booth by the window. Let's sit there."

Sally tagged along, her curious gaze taking in the way Duo's hand lingered on Heero's shoulder, and the warm little half-smile Heero gave him as they slid into the booth.

"Soooo—," she drawled, placing menus in front of them. "What's up, Duo?"

He looked up sharply, catching the arched eyebrow and the knowing smirk. A stubborn gleam entered the indigo eyes. "I think I'll start off with a soda, Sal." He shifted his gaze to Heero. "They've got tea—hot or cold."

"Sounds good," Heero acknowledged. He smiled politely at Sally. "Iced tea for me—unsweetened."

She darted a glance from Heero to Duo, her curiosity an almost palpable thing. "Okay then. Be right back." She walked briskly away, scribbling their orders onto her note pad as she walked.

"She will, too," Duo said glumly. "And she'll just keep getting nosier and nosier."

"That's about par for Smoky Hills, isn't it?" Heero shrugged. "I told you, Duo. I don't care what people think about us."

"Well maybe I _do_," Duo retorted.

"Are you embarrassed to be seen with me?"

"You know that's not it," Duo growled back. "If we weren't surrounded by homophobes stuck in their Puritanical mindsets, I'd be bragging my fool head off about the fact that a guy like you is interested in me."

Heero graced him with a warm smile. "You would?"

Duo realized what he'd irritably blurted out and ducked his head. "Well, yeah. Duh! Have you looked at yourself in a mirror lately?"

"Have you?" came an almost husky purr.

Duo's eyes shot up to Heero's face, catching a downright predatory look directly squarely at him. But before he could fumble for a response, Sally arrived back at the table with their drinks.

She set down the fizzing soda in front of Duo, and the dark amber iced tea in front of Heero. "So what'll you two have to eat?" she asked, tapping her pen on her pad at the same time as she was studying Duo's face searchingly.

"Shrimp," Duo said flatly. "Rice on the side, ranch dressing on my salad."

"And for you, Heero?" Sally asked, her keen gaze now on his face.

"I'll have the grilled chicken salad."

She gathered up their menus and paused just long enough for Duo to know she was hoping for a bit of information, but when he calmly sipped at his drink and looked away, she gave up and moved off.

Heero chuckled quietly. "If you'd like, I can tell her I'm questioning you about Solo. That will satisfy her curiosity and explain our being here together—."

"No," Duo said with a sigh. "I don't want you to have to lie, 'Ro. And I want people to know we're—together. At least, eventually. I'm just—." He shook his head. "Maybe I'm not quite ready to share you just yet."

"Share me?"

Duo mustered up a small smile. "Well—you'll see how it is pretty soon. Around here, it's usually me an' Quat, and sometimes Hilde hanging around together. Sally's kind of a friend, too, as well as a couple of other people. Like you said back at the house, my friends will accept our—relationship—without a problem. But at the same time, they'll want to drag you into the group." He looked up a bit shyly. "I guess I'm afraid once it's out in the open, I'll never have you to myself."

Heero actually laughed aloud at that, causing a couple of heads to turn their way. But he ignored any onlookers and lowered his voice. "You will definitely have me all to yourself, Duo. Hopefully soon."

Duo couldn't help smirking in response, squirming in his seat a bit. "Tease," he accused in a whisper.

"So are you," Heero replied unrepentantly. He sobered then, frowning a bit as he ran a finger down the condensation on his glass. "But all that aside—we really _do _need to talk some more about Solo."

Duo narrowed his eyes. "But when I asked you about that stuff, you said you couldn't discuss it."

"I can't discuss my investigation. That doesn't mean I don't still need information from you."

"About what?"

"Well, for starters—." Heero broke off in mid-sentence when Quatre and Trowa walked into the diner. "What the heck are they doing here?"

Duo turned in his seat and waved to Quatre. "Hey, what's up? Thought you were gonna be late."

"I was," Quatre told him as they approached. "But I had to tell you what we found out!" He held up one of several leather-bound journals clutched in his arms. "Samuel Barton stashed something valuable on his property!"

Duo moved over to let Quatre sit next to him while Trowa slid in next to Heero. "That's old news, Quat," Duo pointed out as his friend plunked the musty journal down in front of him. "Everyone knows the Barton clan had a secret stash."

"Yes, but he gives _clues_," Quatre insisted, opening the book and pointing to a passage describing a hidden root cellar.

"Hm—." Duo glanced over the page, a slight frown creasing his brow. "Thunder Ridge? There's no Thunder Ridge around here."

"There isn't?" Quatre asked, looking crestfallen.

"Nope. Believe me; I've hiked every trail, ridge and hollow in the State forest. Never heard of a Thunder Ridge."

"But if it's on the Barton Farm—," Quatre suggested.

"It'd still be on the topographical maps of the area. And I've got 'em all." Duo shook his head. "Never once have I seen anything labeled as Thunder Ridge."

"Maybe on an older map they called a ridge by that name," Heero spoke up, tugging the journal around so he could read the description. "There are a lot of ridges out there. Maybe it's one that doesn't even have a name any more."

"Well that'll make finding the place a lot harder," Trowa said dryly.

"Not necessarily," Heero argued. "He's very detailed in his description of the land. And actually, he wrote it as Thunder's Ridge. Didn't that ancestor of yours named Ephraim have a dog by that name?"

"As a matter of fact, he did," Trowa replied. "I wonder if Samuel named the ridge after he buried Ephraim and Thunder there—or if he chose the place because of the name."

"Buried who?" Duo spoke up.

"Ephraim—the first Barton," Trowa explained. "He died in a blizzard, along with his dog Thunder, and Samuel buried them in their favorite place."

"Thunder's Ridge!" Quatre said brightly. "Oh, I'll bet that's it! He buried them there, and later used it as a landmark when he chose the spot for his secret stash." He squeezed Trowa's hand encouragingly. "I'm sure we could figure this out."

Heero looked at his brother quizzically. "You're trying to find buried treasure?"

A faint blush crept up Trowa's cheeks. "No."

"Yes!" Quatre contradicted him.

All eyes turned to the blonde.

"Well why _not_?" he demanded. "Samuel wrote about his 'secret source of income,' and how he'd only accept silver dollars or gold coins for payment."

"Ah—the moonshine business!" Duo said brightly.

"You don't know for sure that Samuel was a bootlegger—," Quatre said defensively.

"Actually, it was pretty much common knowledge," Duo insisted. "Even Howie said so, an' he heard it straight from ol' Dekim himself."

"Besides," Trowa added. "Samuel more or less admits it in his journals." He looked apologetically at Quatre. "You haven't read some of the later ones."

"Oh."

Duo waved a hand airily. "It's no big deal, Quat. That was so long ago, it's not like anyone would get in trouble over it." He glanced at Heero, as if seeking confirmation, and the Japanese man smirked.

"I'm sure the statute of limitations on bootlegging has long since expired."

"So—if we found a stash of 'shine, we could have a wild party," Duo added mischievously.

Trowa grimaced. "Would you really want to drink some home-brewed concoction a senile old man hid in a root cellar seventy-five years ago?"

"Well-aged," Duo deadpanned.

"Toxic," Quatre warned.

"Vile, at the very least," Heero concluded. "Like that soda Trowa bought for you, Duo."

"You bought me soda?" Duo asked, beaming at the green-eyed man.

"Well, yes," Trowa replied with a smirk. "Didn't I say I would the other day?"

"Yeah, but—." Duo grinned and ducked his head. "Thanks."

"You're welcome. I'm sure you'll be stopping by soon to enjoy it." He eyed his brother. "Right, Heero?"

"As I said, he's always welcome."

Duo's smile warmed as he looked across into the deep blue eyes, but before he could come up with a reply that didn't sound either coy or just plain lame, Sally showed up with their salads.

"Well isn't this quite the gathering?" she noted, taking in the two new additions to the table. "Dare I ask what the four of you are up to?"

"Eating, Sal," Duo said with a warning scowl. "And just to finish off the introductions, this here is Trowa Barton, of the infamous Barton clan. Happy now?"

She smiled slyly. "Don't worry, Maxwell. I'll squeeze all the details out of you sooner or later. You like my shrimp dinners way too much." With a teasing wink at him, she turned her attention to the new arrivals. "What can I get for you two?"

"Cheeseburger," Trowa said quickly, before Heero could insert some crazy request for a healthy meal for him. "Fries." He darted a defiant glance at his brother, and then sighed. "And milk. I may as well have one thing that's genuinely good for me."

Quatre ordered his usual salad and drink, and Sally went off to the kitchen.

"So, where were we?" Duo asked, nibbling on a leaf of his salad.

"We were discussing how we're going to find Samuel's hidden cache of silver dollars," Quatre piped up eagerly.

"You've got to realize, it's highly unlikely we'll find it," Heero pointed out.

"But you said his descriptions are very detailed."

"Yes, but several decades old. The land could have changed. And even if it didn't, the root cellar could have collapsed from age, or trees could have fallen in storms. It's really a literal needle in a haystack."

Trowa gave a half-shrug. "Still—it's kind of fun to think about trying."

"Sure!" Duo piped up. "Considering how ol' Dekim never seemed to run out of money, he must have had access to the cash. So it's gotta be somewhere even an old man could get to."

"Speaking of Dekim," Trowa said slowly, pulling another volume out of the stack Quatre had placed between them on the table. "There's some stuff in here you need to read, Heero."

"Me? Why?"

Trowa and Quatre exchanged a long look, and the blonde shook his head almost imperceptibly. But Trowa plowed on anyway. "Dekim made reference to something that happened on his property—something he was afraid folks would find out about. And the time frame matches—." He paused, swallowing uneasily. "It seems to be around the time Solo was murdered."

Duo went rigid, his face paling. "What?"

Heero took the journal from Trowa, and opened it to the page indicated by a bookmark.

"Out loud," Duo said in a too-hoarse voice.

"Duo—."

"C'mon, 'Ro. Just do it."

Heero shook his head, but read the passage anyway. "_Had that nightmare again…the one about __**that**__ day. I haven't been back to the hollow since—but I keep wondering if someone will find out. Will this dark secret haunt me to the end of my days?_" He looked up at Duo with a frown. "There's no reference to Solo there," he said carefully. "We shouldn't jump to any conclusions."

"Kind of hard not to," Trowa said quietly.

But Duo didn't seem to hear either of them, his gaze fixed on the condensation running down the sides of his glass as a sudden memory flickered through his mind.

_He looked out the window of Howie's just in time to see Dekim Barton pulling up to the gas pump in his old pickup truck, two big coon hounds milling about in the back. The dogs bounded over to the driver's side as the old man got out and hobbled towards the pump._

"_Ah, crap," Duo muttered, feeling an odd surge of pity for the rickety old man. "Howie! I'm goin' out to run the pump!" he called._

_He trotted outside before Dekim had reached the nozzle, calling out a cheery greeting. "Hey there, Mister Barton. Why doncha let me do that for you?" He forced a smile, despite his unease around the crotchety old man. "The ol' pump can be a bit tricky."_

_Dekim paused, looking him over, and then nodded and leaned back against the door of the truck._

_Duo felt like a bug under a microscope, aware of the stern gaze watching his every move._

"_You used to hang around with the Stevens boy, didn't ya?" Dekim asked gruffly._

_Duo flinched, both at the sudden burst of conversation from the taciturn man and at the subject matter. "Uh, yeah," he said without looking up._

"_I 'member he used to trespass on my place pretty regular—."_

_Duo glanced up briefly. "I s'pose he did," he admitted. "Lot of us kids did, when we were young and stupid. Me included."_

"_Hm." The bushy eyebrows drew together in a thoughtful scowl. "Some still do," he grumbled._

_Duo eyed the gas pump, wishing it would go faster, and wishing he hadn't given in to the urge to help out an old man._

"_Not you, though," Dekim added, his tone a bit softer. "An' not Stevens any more."_

_This time Duo couldn't hide the pained wince, and he looked directly at the old man. "Solo's gone," he said flatly._

_Dekim nodded. "I know."_

"_Yeah," Duo said bitterly. "Everyone does." He breathed a quick sigh as the pump clicked off, and busied himself hanging up the nozzle and securing the gas cap._

_The dogs rushed to his side of the truck, leaning over to swipe at his face with eager tongues, and he couldn't help but chuckle, fending them off and scratching their ears at the same time. "Easy guys!"_

_He turned back to Dekim, who was holding out a twenty for the gas, as well as a couple of dollars extra. "Thanks young fella."_

_Duo took the twenty and tucked the other bills back into the man's gnarled fingers. "No need to tip me. Howard don't allow it. He expects me to help out the regular customers any time I can."_

_Dekim nodded and climbed back into his truck. But when he'd started the engine, he paused to look over at Duo with a somber expression on his grizzled face. "Sorry 'bout your boyfriend."_

_He drove off before Duo could do more than gawk blankly at him._

"_Goddamn!" muttered the braided boy, his heart pounding. He'd always figured Dekim Barton was pretty out of touch with reality—not to mention the local gossip. But apparently the old man was sharper than he seemed._

Duo frowned in thought, replaying the conversation from several years ago in his head. "He said 'sorry about your boyfriend,'" he recalled in a whisper. His eyes flashed in sudden realization, and he looked at Heero in dawning horror. "One day at Howie's, I ran the gas pump for Dekim, and he talked about Solo being gone. He said he was sorry about my boyfriend." His frown deepened. "Why would he say something like that? He knew something had happened to him, didn't he?"

Heero looked over at Trowa, who shook his head apologetically. "Sorry—but that journal picks up after whatever it was had already happened. My grandfather only mentions 'that day' or makes reference to a secret he's afraid to share in later entries."

"Where's the previous journal then?" Duo asked breathlessly.

"It's damaged," Trowa explained. "All the pages are completely stuck together. At some point he must've stored the journals under a leaky roof."

"Fuck!"

"Don't give up, Duo," Quatre urged. "Trowa and I are making the trip this weekend to take the damaged journals to Rashid. He's going to try a new restoration technique."

"You mean we might be able to read 'em some day?" Duo asked hopefully.

"That's the goal," Quatre said carefully. "He's going to explain the process to Trowa and me, and then demonstrate on old scrap pages to show how safe it is. We can't chance damaging the journals. But if the process is safe, we'll give it a try."

Heero gently placed a hand over one of Duo's. "Don't get your hopes up. Even if Dekim was involved in Solo's death, he might not have come right out and said so. It might be nothing but veiled references."

"But he said he had nightmares," Duo pointed out. "If he didn't have a guilty conscience, why—?"

Heero squeezed his hand to get his attention. "You don't even know that his guilty conscience had anything to do with Solo. He could be talking about anything."

"Yes, but then why would he say what he did at the gas station?" Duo's face darkened. "The things he said—if he caught Solo trespassing, who knows what he might've done?"

"That's just it," Heero said sternly. "We _don't _know. And we may not ever know."

"But we _have _to find out!" Duo asserted. "There's got to be something that would prove he did it. I mean, you found the remains on Barton land!"

"That doesn't mean a Barton killed him," Heero argued patiently. "It still could have been almost anyone, from a vagrant to someone who knew him very well. Hell, an hour ago you were convinced Otto and Trant were to blame."

"An hour ago I didn't know Dekim Barton was hiding something besides moonshine on his farm!" Duo retorted. "It all makes sense now—the way he talked to me that day at the gas station." He shook his head. "We could be totally barkin' up the wrong tree suspecting Otto and Trant."

"Maybe," Heero said with a shrug, unable to shake his gut feeling that the two thugs _were_ involved.

Duo's eyes narrowed. "You don't sound too enthusiastic. You really like Trant and Otto for this crime, don't you?"

Heero couldn't help smirking. "I _like _them for it? Been watching cop shows, have you?"

Duo blushed and ducked his head. "Well isn't that the way they say it?"

"Sometimes. And obviously on whatever crime drama you're into, they do."

Quatre reached over to poke Duo in the ribs, but directed his words at Heero. "I think he only started watching that stuff since a hot Asian cop moved into town…"

"Shut _up_!" Duo hissed, glaring at his roommate. "I did so watch it before!" He forced a nonchalant expression onto his face. "Don't flatter yourself, Yuy. I've always had a fascination for law enforcement."

"I'll bet you have," Heero grinned back. "Considering the statue incident, it was probably important for you to know your civil rights, and exactly how much you could get away with."

"Statue incident?" Trowa asked.

"I'll tell you later," Heero replied, seeing the storm gathering on Duo's face. "Meanwhile, here comes our food," he pointed out, grateful for the distraction.

He'd been wondering how to shift the conversation away from Duo's new found obsession with Dekim Barton as a suspect, and Sally's arrival provided a perfect opportunity, as she set out dishes and checked to make sure everyone had what they needed.

The moment they were left to their own devices, Heero looked over at Quatre. "So, tell me more about the clues to the hidden money." He hoped the blonde would run with it, and keep Duo from brooding about Dekim's damaged journals and the secrets they might contain.

"Oh, sure!" Quatre quickly launched into a summary of the clues they'd found so far in Samuel's journals, which along with comments from Trowa lasted until they were finishing the final bites of their meals.

But even as Quatre started to suggest they go back to their place to compare the notes to some of Duo's maps, the door to the restaurant opened and a young woman walked in, the faint music of bells jingling at her ankles.

Duo glanced up at the sound, and his eyes widened. "Oh holy hell," he muttered darkly. "What the fuck is _she _doing here?"


	49. Fortune Teller or Fraud

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved.

Warnings: AU, yaoi, swearing, bigotry, some OOC

Pairings: 1X2 eventually, 3X4 also eventually

A/N: I have to apologize for how long this took. One thing after another conspired against me (including myself since I got a puppy who sucked up a LOT of my time in the late summer and fall). I will try to do better, promise!

SMOKY HILLS

_"__After selling the latest batch of 'shine, I'll be able to pay the taxes and have enough left over to maybe buy Jenny one of those fancy dresses they sell in the shop in town. She deserves the best—the very best of everything. As hard as she works—cooking, cleaning, gardening and canning—she always finds time to brighten up the house with fresh flowers, or make a special dessert for me. And then she'll stay up half the night to help me haul jugs up to the still. She's one in a million, my Jenny_..."

—_excerpt from the private journal of Samuel Barton_

Chapter Forty Nine: Fortune Teller or Fraud

All eyes at the table turned to the newcomer, except for Duo's; he was glaring fixedly at his empty plate.

The new arrival was a young woman, maybe in her mid-thirties, if Heero had to hazard a guess. Her feet were clad in sandals, and the Bohemian-style skirt she wore revealed slim ankles, where those telltale bells were jingling faintly. There was a tattoo of a butterfly barely visible just about the glittering jewelry on one ankle, and around the woman's waist was a sash tied so the ends trailed down one side of the swirling skirt.

Considering how colorful her skirt was, with a patchwork of various hues, the top half of her ensemble was curiously plain. She wore a simple white peasant blouse, with a black shawl wrapped around her shoulders. Straight, dark hair fell in a silky mass down her back, and her eye makeup was almost Goth-looking. Only a pair of shining silver hoop earrings and a matching multi-strand necklace brightened what looked to be a very serious face.

"Who's that?" Trowa hissed to Duo in an undertone.

Duo just shook his head, his lips a thin, tight line across his face.

"That's Miss Silvia," Quatre whispered. "She's a—well—I guess you could call her an eccentric." He cocked his head to one side thoughtfully. "She rarely leaves her house, and then only to go grocery shop or run errands. I don't think I've ever seen her in here."

"Oh, she drops in on occasion." Sally had come along to gather up plates and offer drink refills, and happened to catch the hushed conversation. "She's a psychic," she told Trowa. "At least she thinks she is. Claims to be a medium and fortune teller."

"She's a fraud," Duo muttered, tearing his gaze away from his plate and looking at Heero.

Sally reached out and nudged Duo's shoulder. "Says _you_," she teased. "As I recall, you kids used to avoid walking past her house on the same side of the street. And I know I saw Mueller pull a rabbit's foot out of his pocket and kiss it that time he fell off his bike into her tulip bed."

"That was because he thought he broke his leg at first," Duo said dryly.

"Yeah? And does that explain him making the sign of the cross at her house, too?"

"Mule's an idiot," Duo muttered. "Always was."

Sally opened her mouth to retort, but paused and straightened as the aforementioned Miss Silvia approached their table. "Uh, good afternoon Silvia."

"Hello, Sally." The woman's dark gaze scanned the four men seated at the table. "I've met you, Duo, and seen _you _around, Quatre. But I haven't had the pleasure of meeting the Barton heir or his handsome friend."

"I'm Trowa," said the auburn-haired man, politely shaking the slim, ring-bedecked hand she held out. "And this is—."

"She's a psychic!" Duo snapped curtly. "I'm sure she can figure it out."

A bit surprised by the venom in his boyfriend's tone, Heero nonetheless took her hand. "Heero Yuy—Trowa's maternal brother."

Silvia smiled almost slyly, casting a sidelong glance at Duo. "I'm pleased to make your acquaintance. No doubt your arrival here is what's sparked the recent surge in spiritual activity."

"Um, pardon?" Trowa said blankly.

She looked vaguely surprised. "You mean you haven't noticed?"

"Noticed what, exactly?" Heero asked with a frown.

Duo let out a low growl, half-rising from his seat. "Jesus, Sil, give 'em a break!" he snarled. "They're new to town and don't need a lot of superstitious tripe thrown at them. Go bust a ghost somewhere else!"

She met his gaze steadily, and he froze, his expression shifting from anger to apprehension. "Shame on you, Duo," she chided. "You of all people know how closely the spirit world and our own coexist in Smoky Hills."

"I also know you're nothing but a fraud," Duo said again, though his tone was sullen rather than heated this time.

"I'm sorry I couldn't help you find Solo," she murmured. "But at the time—."

Duo jerked back sharply, a faint flush creeping up his cheeks. "Just shut up about it!"

"Duo—?" Heero laid a hand on his arm, but he shook it off, pulling out his wallet and dropping some money on the table, before pushing past Quatre to get out of the booth.

"I'm heading home, Quat. Not hungry for dessert—and if I was, I lost my appetite." He turned away quickly, heading for the door, but Silvia's next words stopped him in his tracks.

"I can help you find his killers."

Duo spun to face her, conflicting emotions chasing themselves across his face. But he seemed to settle on one at last, and narrowed his eyes. "You couldn't even tell me he was dead, Sil! You couldn't give me that much closure, despite all your so-called 'powers.' So don't come in here now pretending you want to help. We don't need any of your bullshit mumbo-jumbo. Just stay the _fuck _out of it."

He turned and slammed his way out of the door, nearly knocking over Hilde, who'd been on her way in. She stumbled back in surprise and watched him stalk away, then turned a puzzled look to the people at the table. "Whoa! What crawled up _his _ass and died?"

Heero looked at Silvia, pondering her use of the plural when referring to Solo's murderer. But then he shook off his indecision and gestured Trowa to let him out of the booth. "I'm going after Duo—to see what's going on." He paused as he passed Silvia. "I'll be looking you up later," he told her flatly, not bothering to mention it would be for an interrogation rather than a psychic reading.

Then he walked briskly out the door.

Trowa managed a forced laugh in the silence that followed the sudden outburst of activity. "Well, once again my brother leaves me holding the check," he joked, pulling out his wallet to pay for the remainder of the bill.

* * *

Heero overtook Duo almost halfway back to the house. "Hey! Wait up, Duo!" he called as he jogged the last few feet to catch up.

Duo stopped, not turning to face him. His hands were still clenched in fists at his side, and from the rigid set to his shoulders, Heero could tell he hadn't cooled off.

The Japanese man put his hands on those tense shoulders and moved so he was almost pressed up against Duo's back. "Talk to me," he said quietly.

He felt the stiffness ease from the lean frame, and Duo sighed in resignation. "I s'pose I may as well get this over with." He turned to face Heero, apparently forgetting the fact that they were almost flush against each other on a public sidewalk. "After Solo went missing and the cops blew me off, I went to Silvia, hoping she could maybe help me find him." He shoved his hands deep into his pockets and dropped his gaze to the sidewalk. "Stupid, huh? Thinking a wanna-be psychic could help me!"

"It wasn't stupid," Heero said gently. "_You _weren't stupid. You were desperate and in love."

"I was grasping at straws," Duo admitted. "I just hoped that when all else failed, maybe she'd have some answers no one else did."

"I take it she didn't."

"She—." Duo shrugged, scowling down at the ground and using the toe of his shoe to flick a pebble off to the side. "She did some kind of card reading and gave me a load of mumbo-jumbo about things being dark and obscure. Talked about Solo being hidden or trapped or something—made it sound like he was lost or confused and trying to find his way, or some such bullshit." His scowl deepened. "I suppose now she'll claim she misinterpreted the message."

Heero found himself smirking faintly. "Well, psychics are notoriously unreliable," he noted. "And vague."

Duo snorted wryly.

"I don't believe in them, myself," Heero said evenly. "You shouldn't either."

"I don't. Not any more," Duo muttered.

"But—," Heero added. "I _do _want to talk to Miss Silvia."

"Why?" Duo wondered, finally looking back up at him. "She's a fucking fraud, 'Ro. I swear, not one thing she's ever predicted has come true." He paused with a faint frown. "Well, there was that one time she guessed who'd win the local election—but considering Richter owns half the town, she could hardly get that wrong. And I think when the Gradys' son got lost in the woods, she might've helped find him—."

"Duo!" Heero waited until the indigo eyes were once again fixed on him. "I want to talk to her because sometimes when people seem to know a lot of stuff they shouldn't, they're actually involved in the crime themselves."

"But Silvia didn't know anything—."

"She claims to. She said back there that she could help find the killers."

"So? She says lots of stupid shit like that," Duo argued. "Doesn't mean it's true."

"But why did she use a plural? _Killers_. Why not just say killer?" Heero wondered. "I mean, sure word has gotten out that there's a homicide investigation underway. But I've only interviewed a couple of people. And I never implied anything about there being more than one murderer. Why would she make such an assumption?"

"Because she's an ass," Duo grumbled.

"Or—," Heero added speculatively, "—she knows something." Duo opened his mouth to respond, but Heero cut him off. "I'm not saying she was involved in it—not necessarily. But—she might have heard something or caught a clue from someone who went to her for a reading, like you said."

"Like me, you mean?" Duo said tightly.

Heero sighed in frustration. "You've got to stop reading into what I say, Duo. I already told you, I know you didn't kill Solo. And no circumstantial evidence will change my mind about that—or about _you_." He reached out and caught Duo's wrists, tugging him even closer. "This is why I will _not _discuss the case with you. I don't want you feeling like you're being accused of anything. Just because some stray piece of evidence seems incriminating, doesn't mean there's not an innocent explanation. Police work is very complex and, well, an inexact science." He paused and smirked. "Except where Chang's involved that is. But my point is, I'm not going to subject you to all the possibilities suggested by each interview or clue."

"So I won't even _know _if you end up suspecting me—."

Heero actually growled at him. "Dammit, Maxwell. You're the first guy I've been genuinely attracted to since—." He caught himself sharply. "—in a very, very long time. And I know you're attracted to me. So stop throwing roadblocks in our way!"

"I'm not the one shutting you out of the investigation."

"No, you're the one trying to scare me off by telling me the town is full of homophobes, or that your friends will monopolize my time, or that maybe I should be suspecting you of murder!" Heero snapped back. "Would you just stop?"

Duo blinked at him in surprise, his jaw dropping slightly. "I'm not—." He shook his head. "I didn't know I was doing that," he admitted. "I don't _want _to scare you off—."

"And yet you seem to take great delight in questioning what I see in you," Heero pointed out.

"Well, yeah," Duo conceded with a half-shrug and the hint of a wry smile. "I guess I do. Question it, that is."

Heero shook his head. "If you're fishing for compliments—."

"No—just—questioning your sanity maybe," Duo smirked.

"I'm perfectly sane, Duo Maxwell," Heero said firmly. "And I'm perfectly capable of deciding what I want in a man. So would you just allow that maybe, just maybe, when I say I want you, I've already given it plenty of thought, and I have sound reasons?"

"Y'gonna tell them to me some day?" Duo asked, his cheekiness returning bit by bit.

"When I think they won't inflate your ego too much," Heero replied, leaning in to kiss Duo gently, but very firmly.

Duo relaxed in his arms, until the sound of a car approaching from town made him aware of his surroundings, and then he pulled sharply back, looking around them in concern. "Fuck! F'got where we were," he muttered, smoothing his shirt nervously and stuffing his hands back into his pockets just as a car rounded the bend and drove noisily past.

"I didn't," Heero said evenly.

"I'll bet you didn't," Duo agreed. "Always so sure of yourself, aren't you, 'Ro?"

"Not always," replied the Japanese man, his eyes a little distant. "But in this case, yes. I'm on solid ground when it comes to my feelings for you. And I'll do whatever it takes—however long it takes—to prove it to you."

Duo smiled warmly at him. "I like the sound of that," he admitted. "C'mon—let's get back to Quat's and my place so we can make out a little before the folks get home, hm?"

"Sounds good." Heero fell into step beside him and they walked the remainder of the way to the house in companionable silence.

* * *

When Quatre and Trowa arrived a bit later, they found the two sitting on the porch swing, talking about the bird's nest up in the rafters and how there'd be babies in it before long.

Quatre took the hint at once, dropping the subject of Silvia's visit altogether as he plunked down on one of the lawn chairs. "So—about the buried treasure on Barton land," he said bluntly. "Are you in, Duo?"

"In?" Duo tore an adoring gaze from Heero's face to look quizzically at his roommate.

"Will you help us follow the clues and try to find it?"

"Of course," Duo said with a shrug. "Not that I have much firsthand knowledge of the Barton place. Like I told you before, the old man kept a shotgun loaded with rock salt to pepper the asses of any trespassers he caught. We mostly steered clear of the place."

"Mostly," Quatre echoed knowingly. "Which means only when you thought the old man might catch you kids."

"Well, yeah."

"That still gives you a better idea of the lay of the land there than most folks," Quatre pointed out.

"I've walked a lot of the trails," Heero added to the conversation. "Maybe some of the descriptions will match what I've seen."

"Are you sure you're not too busy—?" Quatre asked carefully, trying to avoid a return to the topic of the murder investigation.

"I'm sure a little treasure hunting would be a welcome break," Heero told him just as carefully. "Not that I really think we'll find anything."

"Skeptic!" Duo accused. "Man, if you'd been around town as long as I have, you would've heard all the stories. The Bartons _had _to be loaded. And it's for damn sure they couldn't have spent it all around _this_ dump. There is just nothing worth buying in Smoky Hills."

"I didn't say the money didn't exist," Heero pointed out. "Just that I doubt we'll find it."

"Ah." Duo gave a dramatic sigh. "Not a skeptic—a cynic."

Trowa snorted wryly. "If you only knew the half of it."

"I am _not _cynical," Heero protested. "I'm practical."

"You walk a very fine line between the two," Trowa corrected him. "I seem to recall that when we arrived in town, you said postal workers were overpaid civil servants—."

Heero glared back at him defiantly. "Maybe before I met some!"

Quatre smiled sweetly. "That's okay; Duo and I speculated about you two being serial killers." He paused to watch their shocked faces and then added, "Before we met you, of course."

Duo laughed loudly, thinking back to some of their wild speculations about the residents of the Barton farm. "God, Quat—if we'd only known then what we know now!"

"I wouldn't do a single thing different," Quatre said firmly, casting a sidelong glance at Trowa.

Duo mulled it over for a moment, sobering. "I s'pose I might have skipped the drinking myself into a stupor." He grimaced and looked at Heero. "Did I ever thank you for looking after me that night?"

"I think you did—after you got over being mad at me for suggesting you'd be a suspect."

Duo grimaced again. "God, 'Ro—why are you even giving me the time of day after all the stupid shit I pulled?"

"Maybe because after the stupid shit got my attention, I figured out what a great guy you were, and realized I wanted to get to know you better."

Trowa blinked in surprise, looking askance at his brother.

"What?" Heero demanded with a scowl.

"Nothing," came a smirking reply. "Just wondering when you grew a set, and got so talkative about your feelings. I seem to recall you being a big chicken about approaching Duo in the first place."

"And you weren't when it came to Quatre?"

"Boys—boys!" Duo cut in with a grin. "Is this what sibling rivalry sounds like?"

"Actually," Trowa replied with a less teasing and more genuine smile. "It's more like 'sibling encouragement.' I'm complimenting my little brother on his progress." He reached over to tousle Heero's hair fondly. "I think Duo's a good influence on you."

Heero growled and swatted his hand away.

"To get back to the plan," Quatre interrupted. "I think we should start by getting a good topographic map of the farm and the surrounding land, and then break it down into sections we can search."

"Needle in a haystack," Heero sighed skeptically. "But that's as good a plan as any."

"I've got topo maps," Duo spoke up. "Like I said before. They're probably buried under shit in the back of my closet; but I could maybe dig 'em out for tomorrow. We could look them over while you guys are here for dinner."

"That's a great idea," Quatre replied. "We can compare the maps with locations on the farm, and when we get the time to search, maybe we'll spot landmarks that Samuel described."

"Or maybe the land has changed too much over the years," Heero couldn't help but point out. He paused and bit down on what he might have said next, as Quatre shot him a look. But when the blonde slanted a sidelong glance in Duo's direction, Heero suddenly caught on.

Quatre wasn't just obsessing about a treasure hunt; he was trying to get Duo involved in something that would provide a distraction from the search for Solo's killer.

Heero fought the urge to smile, and simply nodded once in reply to the unspoken message. "But between my familiarity with the trails around the farm, Trowa's journals, and Duo's maps...if anyone can find the so-called treasure, it would be us."

Duo had missed the significant glances, his attention captured by the stack of journals in Trowa's lap. "Hey Tro'? Any chance I could read some of those?"

"Sure," replied the auburn-haired man. "As soon as Rashid takes a look, you're welcome to borrow them. I know when you helped me haul that trunk down out of the attic, you said you were interested."

"Yeah. Might be nice to read some firsthand accounts of things—find out how many of the old stories have a basis in fact."

"At the very least," Quatre spoke up. "There's more than one mention of mountain lions in there." He ignored the dark look Duo gave him. "Hey, if they were around fifty or a hundred years ago, who's to say there aren't still some?"

"There are," Duo muttered. "But try an' get the DEP to admit it—."

"I think I've seen tracks around the barn," Heero said without thinking.

Duo's head shot up, and he fixed a searching look on the dark-haired man. "Seriously?"

"Seriously. I got woken up in the middle of the night, and thought I saw something. When I investigated the next morning, there were very large tracks."

"Wish you'd have told me sooner," Duo sighed. "I would've done plaster castings of them."

"Why?" Trowa asked.

"Duo's been trying to prove there are mountain lions around here for years," Quatre answered.

"Quat!" Duo snapped, scowling at his roommate.

"What?" came the defensive response. "You have!"

"That doesn't mean I want to broadcast the fact!" Duo growled back, blushing furiously. "Everyone already thinks I'm an idiot for it—."

"I don't," Heero said quickly, cutting into the blossoming argument. "Duo—I'm on your side. I believe there are wild mountain lions around here. I really do!"

Duo looked sharply at him.

"That night by the barn, I think what I saw might have been a mountain lion."

Duo's eyes narrowed. "You're not just saying that to make me feel better—?"

"No, I'm not," Heero said firmly.

Duo studied his face, and then relaxed, apparently deciding he was sincere. "Well, thanks. It's nice to know at least one person in this town doesn't think I'm a nut."

"Why would they think that?"

Duo sighed and shook his head. "I really didn't want to get into this yet." He cast a vaguely resentful look at Quatre, and then dropped his gaze to the floorboards. "A long time ago, Yuy, my truck broke down out by the reservoir. I had to walk all the way back to town, and along the way there was a mountain lion following me—stalking me." He paused, as if waiting for laughter or a skeptical response, and when it didn't happen, he looked up cautiously to find Heero watching him earnestly. "I made the mistake of telling Ralph about it."

"Oh, Duo," Heero sighed, easing closer to him on the swing. "I take it Loud-Mouth Kurt told anyone who'd listen, and since there was no one to corroborate the story, you got mocked for it, right?"

"That's pretty much it in a nutshell," Duo said with a shrug.

"I was one of the skeptics," Quatre admitted, looking deeply embarrassed. "I used to tease Duo about it right along with all the other obnoxious idiots in this town. At least until I realized how unkind I was being."

"You? Unkind?" Trowa asked. "I just can't picture that."

"Oh, I was."

"Not really," Duo cut in. "He was joking around. Ralph and the rest—well—they pretty much pegged me as someone with an overactive imagination—or just plain crazy."

"You're neither," Heero assured him. "You saw what you saw. And anyone who'd think you'd make something like that up is just plain stupid." When Duo didn't do more than give a rueful smirk, Heero slipped an arm around him over the back of the swing. "You were right about the mountain lion, and you were right about Solo. You knew his disappearance wasn't right. And if they'd listened back then, the mystery could have been solved years ago."

"I hope it can be solved now," Duo said wistfully.

"I'll do my best." Heero gave a quick squeeze and then drew back, looking over at Trowa. "I think it's time you and I headed for home, eh? The animals need to be fed, and I want to go over my notes before tomorrow's interviews."

"But you'll both be here for supper tomorrow, right?" Quatre reminded him. "I'm planning a special meal."

Duo rolled his eyes and grinned. "Special? He's thought of nothing else all week!"

"I have so."

"Have not," came the teasing response.

"We'll absolutely be here," Trowa said firmly. He smiled warmly at Quatre as he stood up. "I'm sure whatever you make will be terrific."

"Should be," Duo mumbled. "He's taking the day off for it—."

"Duo!"

"What? You _are_."

"You don't have to go to a lot of trouble, you know," Trowa assured the blonde. "I'm sure I speak for both of us when I say we're more interested in the company than the food." He gestured to Heero, who was also standing to leave.

Quatre made a huffing sound in mock frustration. "Well that's a fine thing to say! I'll have you know I'm an excellent cook!"

"'Cept for that time you burned water," Duo threw in glibly.

"I wasn't insulting your cooking," Trowa amended carefully. "I just don't want you to feel you have to fuss."

Duo shoved Heero towards Trowa. "Go on and take your brother home before he says any more to get Quatre wound up. He's already determined to make tomorrow's meal perfect, and nothing either one of you says will relax him. So just get ready for some amazing food."

"We will," Heero assured him, heading for the steps. He paused at the top, and turned to tug Duo in for a quick kiss goodnight, before continuing on his way.

Trowa smirked at Duo's besotted expression before following his brother. "Wouldn't hardly believe it if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes," he teased.

Duo shot him a glare that rivaled some of Heero's best, but his wistful smirk kind of ruined the overall effect and left Trowa chuckling as he went.

* * *

Heero climbed into his car and started it up while Trowa put the journals in the back seat before joining him. "Take it easy on Duo," he cautioned rather sternly.

Trowa raised an eyebrow. "Meaning?"

"Don't tease him when I kiss him goodnight; he's already self-conscious enough about being seen with me."

"Afraid I'll scare him off?" Trowa asked with a grin. "I don't think there's a chance in hell of that happening. He's smitten!"

"I sure hope so," Heero muttered quietly.

"I'd bet the farm on it," Trowa asserted, watching the faint worry lines ease from his brother's face. "And while we're on the subject of predictions…what did you think of the psychic?"

Heero snorted wryly. "What do you think? I deal in fact, Trowa. Not fantasy. I don't know what her game is, but I can assure you, she's no more clairvoyant than you or I."

"You sure about that?"

"Very. From what Duo told me, she played the typical game most 'cold readers' play. She gave him vague comments about Solo being lost or confused." He shook his head. "Sorry, but if she couldn't tell him Solo was dead eight years ago, she's nothing but a fraud, just as he said."

Trowa made a "hm" sound in agreement.

"Madame Mimi was a better psychic than Miss Sylvia," Heero added with a smirk, referring to a woman back at the circus who'd used a crystal ball and tarot cards.

"Hey, Madame Mimi was downright good," Trowa insisted. "Remember that time she predicted Bo-Bo the Clown would get stepped on by an elephant?"

"I think that was more of a self-fulfilling prophecy than a psychic vision," Heero said with a chuckle.

"What? You mean considering he went around practically daring the elephants to do something to him?" Trowa replied. "Yeah—he _was _kinda asking for it."

"You think?"

Trowa laughed and leaned comfortably back in his seat. "Clairvoyants and kidding aside, how'd the investigation go today?"

Heero sighed. "It went fine, considering how little actual evidence I've got."

"If we can fix up Dekim's journals, maybe there'll be more."

"Like an admission of guilt?" Heero said rather bleakly. "I really don't want to find out your grandfather killed Solo."

"I s'pose it'd be a bit awkward, what with you dating his boyfriend and my grandfather having been the one who murdered him," Trowa agreed. "But maybe it was some kind of accident, and Dekim just covered it up," he hazarded. "He was an old man by then, and in the journal entries I _could _read, it sounded like he was pretty freaked out by whatever secret he was hiding."

"And his secret might have nothing to do with Solo at all," Heero pointed out. "In fact, I'd be surprised if it did."

"What about those guys Duo mentioned—Otto and Trant?"

Heero grimaced. "They're a couple of piece of work, those two. One's an overindulged jerk who feels like he's entitled, and the other is—well—cagey and evasive." A frown creased his forehead as he recalled Trant's open hatred of Solo, as well as his smug expression. "The trouble is, they're so easy to dislike that it's hard to be objective about their possible guilt."

"From what you told me about that confrontation at the convenience store, they're both prone to violence."

"But then, so's Duo," Heero admitted. "At least that day he was." He couldn't suppress a smile. "He was ready to kick both their asses if I hadn't stepped in."

"Do you think he could've?"

Heero laughed outright. "They'd have beat the shit out of him," he said flatly.

"And you wonder why you can't be objective about them," Trowa sighed.

"Yes, but I have to _try _to be," Heero insisted. "That's why tomorrow I'm going to talk to Hilde Schbeiker. Trant mentioned that she once had a thing for Solo. So maybe she'd have noticed if anyone else caused him problems."

"Wait a sec…the girl from the convenience store?" Trowa asked with wide eyes. "Duo's best pal there? She was hot for his boyfriend?"

"According to Trant," Heero shrugged. He gave a sigh of his own. "Trowa—everyone in this town seems to have had some connection to the whole mess! It could take ages to sort things out."

Trowa grinned widely. "Hell, we didn't move to Smoky Hills—we stumbled into a regular Peyton Place, didn't we?"

Heero scowled through the windshield. "I hate soap operas," he muttered sulkily.


End file.
